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THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 



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‘ 

THE 

GLOBE HOLLOW 
MYSTERY 

BY 

HANNAH GARTLAND ; 

AUTHOR OF 

“the house of cards” 



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NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1923 








Copyright, 1923, 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Ikc, 




PRINTED IN THE U. 8. A. BY 

tCbe ^inn & fBolint Comiiani* 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAY NEW JERSEY 


F£Bi5’23'‘' 

©ClA6aC377 _ 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

The House of Mystery . 



PAGE 

1 

II 

Old Jasper Makes a Will . 



14 

III 

The Fountain op Youth 



22 

IV 

Old Jasper’s Trunk 



30 

V 

Globe Hollow .... 



37 

VI 

The Speaking Portrait . 



47 

VII 

Bride or Refugee . 



56 

VIII 

A Financial Difficulty 



68 

IX 

The Tragedy .... 



78 

X 

Outwitting the Ghost . 



90 

XI 

The Will Is Read . 



100 

XII 

An Eavesdropper 



110 

XIII 

Trespass. 



123 

XIV 

Eleanor Visits the Lawyer . 



128 

XV 

A Theory About the Ghost . 



141 

XVI 

The Case Against Charles . 



147 

XVII 

Mistaken Identity . 



156 

XVIII 

A Connecting Link 



167 

XIX 

Who Is Charles Bowen? 



175 

XX 

Bill Hawkins Has His Troubles 


183 

XXI 

A Lumberman Visits Globe Hollow 


191 

XXII 

Bill Relieves His Mind . 



201 

XXIII 

Old Jasper’s Bedroom . 



208 

XXIV 

The Jeweled Match-Box 



217 

XXV 

The ' Third Degree . 



222 

XXVI 

Outwitted .... 



234 

XXVII 

More Than One Way . 



242 

XXVIII 

The Battle op the Jaw Bone 



253 

XXIX 

Coming Events Cast Shadows 



261 

XXX 

An Impatient Bridegroom . 



268 

XXXI 

Will You Walk into my Parlor? 


280 

XXXII 

A Long W^ait .... 



290 


V 








I 




.11 




THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


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THE GLOBE HOLLOW 

MYSTERY 


CHAPTER I 

THE HOUSE OF MYSTEEY 

T here were those who said afterwards that 
the decaying old mansion of brick and 
brown stone, with its high iron railing in¬ 
closing a spacious and neglected garden harbor¬ 
ing a few decadent elms and maples and a mass 
of sprangly syringa shrubs, had always borne an 
evil name; and that its present occupant, old Jas¬ 
per Bowen, miserly, morose, and solitary, had 
intensified rather than lessened its unsavory repu¬ 
tation. 

They affirmed that this was not the first time 
that strange things had happened in the myste¬ 
rious old house whose shutters on the lower floor 
were never removed, and whose interior no man 
had seen for years upon years. 

When the culmination of a new series of events 
brought it again into prominence, stories were cir¬ 
culated that many times before had the stillness 

1 


2 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

of the night been broken by muffled sounds of 
weird laughter issuing from behind the tightly 
shuttered windows. And there was revived an 
ancient legend that three gaunt sisters, utterly 
nude and stark mad, used to wander ceaselessly 
through the upper chambers and that three pairs 
of burning, hollow eyes set in ghastly, pallid faces 
had often been seen peering through the iron grat¬ 
ings that covered the windows on the top floor. 

But it was only after old Jasper ^s mysterious 
disappearance and the subsequent events con¬ 
nected with it that these stories were circulated 
by those who scoffed at the evidence in the case, 
and refused to believe that the detectives ever got 
to the bottom of the mystery. 

Certain it is that the old place had long since 
ceased to attract the attention of any one but vis¬ 
iting strangers on the tops of Fifth Avenue stages 
or sightseeing automobiles, who could not fail to 
marvel at the sight of the ancient mansion stand¬ 
ing, neglected and forlorn, among the marble pal¬ 
aces of trade. For the rising tide of commerce 
had swept northward up the broad avenue and 
overwhelmed all the other ugly but palatial homes 
of the millionaires of a former generation. 

There were skeptics who declared that the thrill¬ 
ing tales claiming a traditional background were 
invented by megaphone-shouting conductors on 
the tourist cars to satisfy the curiosity of visitors 
bent on getting their dollar ^s worth out of their 


3 


THE HOUSE OP MYSTERY 

trip around the city; and that old Jasper Bowen 
had nothing to his discredit other than that he 
was a miser and a recluse. 

Be that as it may, just when the real-estate 
agents, impatiently waiting to get their hands on 
the most valuable plot on the Avenue, expected 
the old mansion to turn its face to the wall and 
decently die, it became suddenly resuscitated. 
This phenomenon followed immediately after the 
appearance of an undertaker, and the succeeding 
disappearance of the old servant, the only person 
who had accompanied Jasper Bowen when, years 
ago, he had appeared and taken up his residence 
in his newly inherited house—a man as strange, 
as silent, and as mysterious as his master. 

Following close upon the undertaker’s depar¬ 
ture, there appeared before the house one morn¬ 
ing, a ruddy-faced, smiling Irishman carrying a 
ladder. This he placed before a shuttered win¬ 
dow, and mounting it, he proceeded to remove the 
shutters. The long confined windows blinked in 
the unaccustomed light like a man suddenly issu¬ 
ing from the deepest dungeon in the Doge’s pal¬ 
ace. Then the man opened the front door, and 
the imaginative declared that the cold, dank, 
long-confined air escaping therefrom perceptibly 
lowered the temperature on the Avenue. 

Presently two vans arrived with furniture which 
was transferred to the house. A few days later 
a taxi drew up before the iron-grilled gateway. 


4 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

and a young woman, handsome, and smartly 
dressed, alighted; and with the air of a modern 
and self-reliant woman of the world, gave direc¬ 
tions to the driver to take a large wardrobe trunk 
from the cab to the house. The long unused 
hinges of the ancient door creaked protestingly— 
and perhaps warningly, who knows?—as her 
well-shod feet crossed the threshold—the first 
woman’s foot for a generation to disturb its un¬ 
hallowed dust. 

It was, perhaps, four months later that another 
taxi drew up at the same spot; and the grilled 
gate opened, and the old door swung again on 
its hinges, this time to admit a young man, as 
good-looking, as smartly dressed, and as up-to- 
date as the young woman who had preceded him. 
And both, in their youthful freshness, were as op¬ 
posed to the traditional gloom of the house as 
sunlight is to darkness. 

Soon it was rumored that the heirs were be¬ 
ginning to arrive. The young man took up his 
residence in the Vanderbilt, an exclusive bachelor 
apartment, and registered as Charles Yancey 
Bowen, the nephew and only male heir to the 
Bowen estate. Though not known personally in 
New York, his name was familiar because of his 
famous exploits as an aviator in France, and 
whose reported death in action had caused uni¬ 
versal sorrow. Apparently old Jasper supplied 
him liberally with money; and if he felt any im- 


5 


THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 

patience with his uncle for not immediately taking 
his departure from a world of troubles aHer sat¬ 
isfying himself that his money would be left in 
good hands, he did not show it. 

How the girl was faring was not so well known. 
At first she had gone out shopping, and driving, 
and deported herself like any ordinary, normal 
young woman. When Charles came she had gone 
to the theater with him, and to after-theater sup¬ 
pers, and was sometimes seen with him of an 
afternoon in the Waldorf tea-room. But the in¬ 
tervals between the times she was seen out grew 
longer, and finally she did not appear at all. 

It was about this time that the tales of the three 
gaunt sisters began to circulate. 

Meanwhile the rooms in the old house had been 
restored to a semblance of their original inten¬ 
tion. Dennis, the ruddy-faced Irishman who had 
removed the shutters, and Ann, his spouse, had 
cleaned and partially restored some of the neg¬ 
lected rooms, and arranged in them the furniture 
which they had cared for for years in the girl’s 
home in Denver, and which she had brought with 
her along with the two servants when she came 
to make her home with her uncle. 

One morning, a month or so after Charles’s 
arrival, Ann was engaged in her domestic duties 
in the kitchen when Dennis emerged from the but¬ 
ler’s pantry carrying a heavy tray of assorted 
table silver. 


6 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


“To-day is Friday, Ann,’^ be reminded her as 
he deposited his burden on the kitchen table, 
“have you polished the Queen Anne silver tanker 
yet ? ’ ’ 

“Have I polished the Queen Anne silver 
tanker, yet, says you, Dennis Mahoney,” retorted 
Ann promptly, in conjugal tones devoid of any 
irritation, “and well you know His yourself that 
polishes the Queen Anne silver tanker every Fri¬ 
day of your life, after you are done with your 
foolishness of asking me foolish questions about 
it. Sure, His yourself is butler in this house, and 
not me; and His too often I have to be tellin’ you 
that same.” She laid down her dish towel com¬ 
placently, and carefully placed the china and sil¬ 
ver she had been washing on a well-worn lac¬ 
quered tray. 

“And His quite as often, Ann,” said Dennis, 
mildly, “that I have to be reminding you that a 
butler in a gentleman’s house should not polish 
the silver with his own hands, but should leave 
that same to his subordinates. He should keep 
a careful eye on it, I grant you, and see that His 
properly done; but to do it with his own hands is 
beneath his dignity.” 

He transferred the pieces, with a becoming as¬ 
sertion of the importance of his position, from 
the tray to the table. 

“And when did you ever hear, Mr. Butler, if 
you don’t mind informin’ me,” retorted Ann, im- 


7 


THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 

itatiug Ms manner, a lady housekeeper in a 
gentleman’s family cookin’ the food with her own 
hands, and scrubbin’ the pots and pans and ket¬ 
tles, and sweeping the floors, and making the beds, 
and dusting the brickbacks an’ all, let alone be¬ 
ing the butler’s subordinate and polishin’ the sil¬ 
ver? Tell me that now, Dennis Mahoney.” 

can give you the retort curchus to that, 
Ann,” said Dennis triumphantly. ’Tis little 
enough of cookin’ you have to do in this house, 
where there’s two lamb chops provided for the 
dinner for three people, and if I didn’t buy a 
stewin’ piece at the butcher’s for ourselves now 
and then, ’tis no cookin’ at all you’d do for your¬ 
self and me. ’ ’ x 

He selected a fish knife from the mass before 
him and ruefully surveyed the remaining pieces. 

’Tis no denyin’,” said Ann, who followed his 
glance sympathetically, ‘^that there’s altogether 
too much silver to be cleaned for the amount of 
food that goes to the table. That big silver plat¬ 
ter for the wee bit of a chop for Miss Eleanor; 
and all the covered dishes with next to nothing 
in them; and the cream pitcher for a spoonful of 
condensed milk; and all the flat pieces laid out 
every time as if we were giving a course dinner, 
when, to tell you God’s truth, ’tis hard enough. 
I’ve found it many a day to scrape up anything 
to put on the dishes. If I wasn’t sorry for poor 
Miss Eleanor I couldn’t do it.” 


8 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

‘‘Aye, you have lue there, Ann,’^ said Dennis, 
surveying the polish on the fish-knife with satis¬ 
faction, “for it tears the heart out of me to stand 
behind her chair in the big dining-room and look 
across the top of her head at her father’s por¬ 
trait, God rest his soul, looking down on her wan, 
pitiful face from his frame on the opposite wall, 
and watching her big, mournful eyes looking hun¬ 
grily at a chop-bone you might throw to a dog. 
’Tis little enough serving I have to do, and I 
often watch the portrait. Oftentimes of late it 
seems as if he was trying to talk to me. Some¬ 
times I can actually see the lips moving, saying, 
‘Why don’t ye be doin’ something, Dennis, why 
don’t ye be doin’ something?’ ” 

“And what could you be doin’, then, I want 
to know,” quickly retorted Ann, “barrin’ that 
you mixed up the trays and took the uncle’s din¬ 
ner to her? ’Twould do him good, once,” she ad¬ 
mitted, “to have to eat what he provides for her. 
Only, to do him justice, ’tis little enough himself 
is eating these days.” 

“Well, to give the devil his due, he’s old and 
sick, and ye can’t hold him strictly accountable,” 
said Dennis. 

‘‘Hut! Sick, is it?” ejaculated Ann. “Well, 
then. I’ll tell him to his teeth, ’tis more than him¬ 
self will be sick in this house if that poor thing 
doesn’t have more food to her stomach.” She 
wrung out her dish-towels with a muscular 


THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 


9 


strength suggestive of a desire to apply it to an¬ 
other use. ‘‘And whaUs he keeping his money for 
anyway, him with one foot in the grave U’ she 
continued, as she snapped out the towels and 
placed them on a rack to dry. “He’s not so fond 
of Mr. Charles that he need be keepin’ it for him, 
and well he knows he can’t buy his way through 
Purgatory with it.” 

“You mean that Mr. Charles is not so fond of 
him,” corrected Dennis. “Do you mind taking a 
hand at the tanker now, Ann, mavourneen—^now 
that your dishes are done?” He ingratiatingly 
placed the polish near her, and before she was 
aware that Dennis had, with his usual success, 
inveigled her into doing the task which he de¬ 
tested, she had a brush in her hand and was vig-. 
orously attacking the tankard. 

“Speaking of Mr. Charles, now,” Dennis con¬ 
tinued hastily, to divert Ann from the discovery 
of her fall from lady housekeeper to assistant 
butler, “ ’tis not easy for me to keep from knowin’ 
a bit of what’s going on upstairs, being Mr. 
Bowen’s valet, and nurse, and doctor, and cham¬ 
bermaid, and wan thing and another, and I hap^ 
pen to know that he wants Mr. Charles to come 
and live here in this house with him and manage 
his money.” 

“Hut! money, says you,” snorted Ann, “all the 
money he’d see you could put in the eye of a 
green fairy on Camperdown heath. Don’t you 


10 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


manage his money for him now I And little more 
than that would Mr. Charles ever see.’’ 

' ^Ht’s his estate I’m ref errin’ to, Ann,” ex¬ 
plained Dennis patronizingly, ‘‘not the miserly 
pittance he doles out to me for the runnin’ of 
the house. He’d like Mr. Charles to be his rent- 
collector^ and his coupon-cutter, and his legal ad¬ 
viser, and his errand boy, and his secretary, and 
—and plenty of other things he could think of— 
for you and I know that he has a way with him 
jfor combining the duties of his employees. You 
in that way he’d have all them brains with 
only one stomach, and by tellin’ him he’s going 
to be his heir he thinks to keep Mr. Charles from 
askin’ any salary.” 

“Oh, well, if it’s his estate you mean,” said 
Ann, mollified, “why doesn’t Mr. Charles do as 
his uncle wishes? The old man is not long for 
this world anyway, and Mr. Charles is not fit to 
do a man’s job, what with the gassin’ and this and 
that he got done to him in the war.” 

“And why not, indeed? ’Tis surprised I am 
at you, Ann,” said Dennis, reprovingly. “Is it 
so fond of livin’ in this house you are yourself 
that you’d be wishin’ it on Mr. Charles, and him 
with medals enough to cover a parade ground? 
And how many times do I have to be tellin’ you 
that Mr. Charles was not gassed—’twas an avia¬ 
tor he was, and aviators had no call to get gassed. 
It was in a prison camp he was, and reported for 


THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 11 

dead after he was seen to bring down fourteen 
army planes— 

^‘Wurra, don^t be tellin’ me that story again, 
man. ’Twas four planes it was when first you 
told it; and well I know he was gassed. Do you 
think them haythen Germans would keep him a 
prisoner all them months and not gas him? I 
wouldn’t put it past them to gas him every day— 
not oncet but twicet. Mind the powder you’re 
droppin’ on the floor there, Dennis.” 

Dennis, thus admonished, pulled the polishing 
board forward toward the edge of the table, and 
withdrew the chamois skin from his pocket where 
he had absent-mindedly placed it. 

’Tis plain to be seen,” he began importantly 
to Ann, who was turning off two pieces of silver 
to his one, ^‘that you, being a woman, don’t un¬ 
derstand what is meant by gassin’. Now—” 

‘‘Well, I don’t need to understand the manner 
of it when I can see the consequences, ’ ’ she in¬ 
terrupted. “Mr. Charles is not the same man 
he was at all, at all. ’ ’ 

“And how do you know that, I’d like to know, 
and you never seeing him since he was a lad in 
pinafores?” he retorted. 

“Well, I’ve heard of him, I’m tollin’ you, and 
didn’t the newspapers tell all about his glorious 
deeds as they called them? If Mr. Charles was 
ever a decent lad, then ’tis shell-shock from the 
gassin ’ he must be bavin ’ now; for well you know 


12 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

his actions in this house is anythin’ but ‘glorious 
deeds.’ ” 

Ann nearly wrenched the spout of the coffee¬ 
pot off to give emphasis to her opinion. 

“And what do you know of his actions, you that 
rarely see him since he doesn’t live in the house 
at all, but has his own lodgin’s in the best of style 
at the Vanderbilt?” objected Dennis, less annoyed 
at her persistence than his words implied. 

“Is it what do I know about his actions, says 
you?” she sniffed scornfully. “Hut! I know 
that before he came to this house Miss Eleanor 
had enough to eat and to spare; and her uncle 
was good to her and he didn’t shut himself up 
in his room and refuse to speak to her. And I 
know more than that, too. She’s afraid. The 
poor young thing has a look in her eyes that be¬ 
tokens she is worrying over somethin’ more than 
an empty stomach. You can put that in your pipe 
and smoke it, Mr. Butler,” she declared emphati¬ 
cally. 

Ann’s deft fingers could keep pace with her 
tongue, and as she placed the last piece of the 
polished silver on the tray she added, “I’ve been 
notin’ of late you have something on your mind 
you’ve not divulged to me, and ’tis well you 
know, Dennis Mahoney, you’ll make a mess of 
anything you meddle in without my advice. You 
know well there’s something wrong goin’ on up¬ 
stairs. You’re as jumpy this morning as a rab- 


THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 


13 


bit. Lave off polishin’ your nose with the chamois 
skin now, and take the silver to the dining-room. ’ ’ 
Dennis obeyed with alacrity. 

‘ ‘ How can I tell her what I don T know myself ! ’ ’ 
he muttered as he made his retreat with the tray. 

told her all I know positive. ’Twas only this 
morning the portrait spoke to me as if he was a 
livin’ man: H’m depending on you, Dennis,’ he 
said. ^ Keep your eyes open, man, keep your eyes 
open!’ But ’tis no good in tollin’ Ann that.” 

He placed the silver on the sideboard and, cast¬ 
ing a furtive glance at the door to assure himself 
that Ann was not watching, he went and stood 
before the portrait. It was that of a man in the 
late thirties, with eyes which the painter had made 
peculiarly vital. Dennis gazed steadily at the 
compelling features, and presently his flesh be¬ 
gan to tingle. ’Tis not mistaken I am,” he said. 
‘‘He’s surely implorin’ me to do something. 
‘There’s something wrong goin’ on,’ he says. 
‘Keep your eyes open, Dennis, keep your eyes 
open!’ ” 


CHAPTER II 


OLD JASPER MAKES A WILL 

W HILE Dennis was still weighing the sig¬ 
nificance of the message from the por¬ 
trait, he was startled by the sound of a 
bell indicating a call from the library. He was 
wondering who could be calling from that little- 
used room. Miss Eleanor never called from there, 
and the master of the house, Jasper Bowen, had 
been confined to his room above stairs for the last 
six weeks. Dennis was still speculating on the 
unusual occurrence when he reached the door. 

The library was a long, somber, and forbidding 
room at its best, but now it was bathed in almost 
twilight gloom. The blinds were closed, and what 
light there was filtered in through the shutters 
and fell upon the back of an old man seated at a 
high, old-fashioned escritoire at the opposite end 
of the room. Scattered about him in confusion, 
on the floor, and covering the desk, were papers 
apparently discarded in a frantic search for some¬ 
thing more important. 

The gaunt figure was clad in a yellow flowered 
dressing-gown, and over his bald crown was 
stretched a close-fitting stockinette cap of the 

14 


OLD JASPER MAKES A WILL 15 

same color. His lean, jaundiced hands clutched 
a sheaf of papers bound with a faded green rib¬ 
bon. Before Dennis reached his side, the old man 
addressed him in a raucous voice without raising 
his head or removing his eyes from the sheaf of 
papers in his hands. 

‘‘Dennis,’’ he said, “I want you to telephone to 
Thornton and Bromley, and tell them to send a 
man up immediately to draw up a will. Tell ’em 
I don’t want any delay about it either, and I don’t 
want any of their fool clerks—I want Mr. Thorn¬ 
ton. And then make it your business to see that 
my fastidious niece isn’t hanging about. She 
might come in here and be shocked at my uncon¬ 
ventional costume.” An indescribable sneer ac¬ 
companied these last words. 

Dennis was at a loss, momentarily, for words; 
so great was his astonishment to see his master 
downstairs, sitting at a desk transacting business 
—Jasper Bowen, who had been unable for weeks 
to leave his room unaided, and whose sudden 
death from heart failure he had been led momen¬ 
tarily to expect. 

“But you’re not able to be downstairs, sir,” 
he objected when he at last found his voice. “Let 
me help you back to your room and bring the law¬ 
yer to you there.” 

“You do as I tell you,” snapped the old man 
testily. “I’m able to do my own thinking yet if 
I’m not very steady on my legs.” 


16 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Dennis reluctantly departed to carry out his or¬ 
ders, and when he returned he found the crabbed 
old man where he had left him, his fingers tapping 
nervously the arm of his chair. 

^‘Dennis,’’ he said, abruptly, ^‘what would you 
think if I should tell you I’m going to travel? 
Do you get that, Dennis? Travel!^^ 

He paused to observe, with malicious amuse¬ 
ment, the bewilderment depicted on Dennis’s 
round and ruddy countenance. ^^Your intelligent 
expression would do credit to a Kewpie doll,” he 
continued. ^^Nevertheless, I must express myself, 
and you will do as well as another—^perhaps better 
—because you know that I’ve often tried of late to 
get my nephew to come and live with me, and take 
care of me in my declining years. I don’t see 
why a young man should decline a chance to be¬ 
come my heir, unless it is the natural objection 
of youth to be harnessed up with infirmity and 
age.” He seemed now to be-talking to himself 
rather than to Dennis. ^‘But if I go away and 
get my health back. I’ll be a companion to him. 
I’m not really an old man.” He straightened 
his shoulders and threw forward a hollow chest 
in vain imitation of youth. ‘‘So I’m going to a 
sanitarium, and get baths, and electric treatment, 
and violet rays, and quafP from the fountain of 
youth, Dennis, my boy! I feel younger already, 
just to hear myself talk about it.” He waved his 
scrawny hand jauntily in the air, the sleeve of his 


OLD JASPER MAKES A WILL 17 

yellow dressing-gown flapping like the wing of 
some bird of prey. Dennis regarded him with a 
mixture of wonder and distress. 

‘'And how about Ann, sirT’ he ventured. 
“Will it be for long that we’ll be leaving her?” 

“Don’t anticipate trouble, Dennis, if you call 
it trouble to get away from a woman. That su¬ 
preme state of bliss has been variously called 
Paradise, Elysium, Valhalla, the Happy Hunting 
Grounds; but if you don’t know it, why enlighten 
you?” he said sarcastically. “I’m not going to 
take you with me,” he continued. “Mr. Charles 
will go with me and see me safely installed, and 
then there will be plenty of attendants standing 
around waiting for my money. Don’t let that 
worry you, Dennis—no man with money ever 
lacks service. They’ll be around me as thick as 
buzzards after carrion.” His scrawny fingers 
with their yellow nails, picked at his shriveled 
throat and he emitted a raucous laugh that ended 
in a hollow cough. 

When he had recovered, he continued, “You 
never can tell what’s going to happen to you when 
you travel. If you don’t get run down by some 
fool automobile on your way to the station, the 
train will do its best to land you in a ditch and 
break your neck; so I’m going to make my will 
by way of precaution before I go.” He replaced 
a sheaf of papers in a pigeon hole of the desk, 
and then turned and faced Dennis. 


18 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

While I’m away Mr. Charles will he master 
here, and I expect you to serve him as faithfully 
as you have me.” His tone and manner abruptly 
changed. am making liberal provision for 
you and Ann. In case anything should happen 
to me, you’ll have enough to live comfortably on 
the rest of your lives,” he said impressively. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Dennis, dropping his 
eyes lest the old man should see his surprise at 
any generosity emanating from that source. 
“We’ll try to deserve your kindness, sir, the both 
of us.” 

“You’d better try, and try hard. You won’t 
miss anything by carrying out my wishes to the 
letter —to the letter. Remember that, my man,” 
charged the old man harshly. 

Dennis winced at the words “my man.” He 
had never been called that before and he didn’t 
like it. Old Jasper was growing more eccentric 
every day. He was often irascible, and always 
petty and sarcastic, but to-day he was expressing 
himself in a new vocabulary which had in it a 
peculiarly disagreeable sting. He’d be glad to 
take orders from Mr. Charles, so he would. Then 
a sudden thought startled him. How about Miss 
Eleanor? Fortunately for his bemuddled brain, 
the doorbell announced the arrival of the lawyer. 
He responded with alacrity, glad of any diversion 
to escape from the presence of this astounding 
man, whose sudden death would not have sur- 


OLD JASPER MAKES A WILL 19 

prised him, but whose sudden coming to life was 
too startling a phenomenon for him to compre¬ 
hend. 

Into the cheerless library he ushered the law¬ 
yer, who had to pause a moment to accustom his 
eyes to the gloomy interior. Old Jasper did not 
rise to greet him, but addressed him without cere¬ 
mony. 

‘‘Have you brought a blank form with youV’ 

“Yes, certainly, Mr. Bowen, your man indi¬ 
cated the nature of the business I was called for,” 
replied the lawyer courteously. He was ap¬ 
proaching the escritoire where old Jasper still 
sat when the latter broke forth irritably: 

“Don’t bring it over here! I have all the mess 
I want on this desk now. Sit down at that table 
over there and draw it up.” He pointed to a 
large, flat-topped library table in the center of 
the room. “Dennis, I’ll call you when I want 
you. Go around the corner and bring your 
butcher in for a witness, and somebody else— 
anybody—go along with you! ’ ’ He made a ges¬ 
ture of dismissal, and the yellow sleeve floated 
ominously in the air again. 

The will was duly drawn, with no unnecessary 
words on either side; the lawyer offended at the 
discourtesy shown him, and old Jasper quite 
indifferent to anything but the business in hand. 
When it was ready for the signature, the lawyer 
rose and approached the testator. “Give it to 



20 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

Dennis,’^ snapped the old man irritably, ‘‘and, 
Dennis, what are you looking at me like that for, 
as if you think I’m too feeble to hold a pen?” 
He snatched the paper from Dennis’s hand and 
laid it on the desk at which he was sitting. 

‘‘Hell’s bells!” he grumbled. “As if it w'asn’t 
humiliating enough for myself to see my old hand 
shake without having you young fellows looking 
on sniggering.” 

He made a great show of dashing off the sig¬ 
nature, but the letters trailed out slowly and 
waveringly under the pen. He used a blotter, his 
hand shaking in spite of himself, after which he 
scanned the signature carefully. Then he handed 
the paper back to Dennis and craftily watched the 
witnesses while they wrote their signatures in 
the spaces indicated by the lawyer. 

“Now, is that legal?” he inquired in his rudest 
manner, addressing the lawyer, “or have you fol¬ 
lowed the custom of most of the gentlemen of your 
profession and left a flaw in it so you can get 
another fee for pointing out the flaw to fake 
heirs?” 

“It is a simple matter to destroy it, and you’re 
quite at liberty to do so,” replied the lawyer 
icily. “I will bid you good day,” and without 
further words he departed, the two strange wit¬ 
nesses following him from the room. 

When they were quite out of sight, the old man 
rose and tottered a few steps toward the door, 


OLD JASPER MAKES A WILL 21 

chuckling maliciously. Dennis sprang to assist 
him, but he was in no mood to be assisted. He 
indignantly spurned Dennis's offer, and made his 
way to the staircase unaided, Dennis watching 
him apprehensively the while. 

came down alone and I will go up alone,” 
he declared crabbedly. He seized the railing and 
painfully mounted the first stair. When, with 
much difiiculty, he had succeeded in making the 
second, he looked around, and, seeing Dennis 
watching him, he snarled: 

‘‘Get out of my sight; you make me nervous! 
I tell you from now on I^m a well man and I^m 
going to walk alone. I won’t have you standing 
around waiting to pick me up. Get out of this, 
I tell you, or I’ll take my stick to you!” He 
raised his cane in a threatening attitude, where¬ 
upon Dennis retreated hastily to the dining-room. 
There he waited for a few moments, expecting 
to hear a call for help. Failing to get the ex¬ 
pected summons, he retreated to the kitchen to 
propitiate Ann by relating to her the latest whim 
of his eccentric master. 

“Is it leavin’ the house he is after these twenty 
years and more!” exclaimed Ann. “Sure the 
fresh air will get into his lungs and smother him 
like it does a fish. You mark my words, Dennis, 
he’ll never come back to this house a livin’ m^n. 
You remember what I’m tellin’ you.” 

“I wonder, now—I wonder—” said Dennis. 


CHAPTER III 


THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 

D ennis had hardly ceased wondering when 
he was startled by a peal from the front 
doorbell. 

‘‘What’s on you, man, that you’re so jumpy 
this morning?” said Ann. “Sure ’tis nothin’ 
to make your eyes pop out of your head to hear 
the doorbell ringin’; though I’ll grant you,” she 
admitted fairly, “ ’tis seldom enough you do be 
bearin’ the same.” 

At the sound of the bell, Dennis had hastily 
reached for his coat, which he had removed on 
his return from his duties in the library. With 
his fingers still busy with the buttons, he was 
on his way to answer the summons when he heard 
the sound of Mr. Charles’s voice in the hall. 

“Oh! Dennis,” he called out cheerily. “It’s 
only I, Mr. Charles. Well, I swear,” he laughed, 
at sight of the startled face of the serving man, 
“do you always look like that when you receive 
visitors, or haven’t you ever had one?” he ban¬ 
tered. 

He was a graceful, medium-sized young man, 

clean-shaven and well-groomed. His features 

22 


THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 


23 


were mobile and sensitive, the chin only tending 
to sharpness of outline. His skin was somewhat 
pallid from the confinement in a German prison 
camp; and he wore, temporarily, amber-colored 
glasses. He wore his well-tailored clothes with 
easy grace. His voice was exceedingly pleasant, 
his movements alert, and he brought with him 
into the gloomy house something suggestive of 
the brilliant sunshine and fresh atmosphere from 
which he had just emerged. His manner in 
chaffing Dennis was mischievous and boyish. 

thought it would surprise you,’’ he laughed, 
‘‘to hear the old bell jangle—in fact, I wasn’t 
sure it would take the trouble to rouse its lazy 
self to that extent. And now your eyes are ask¬ 
ing me why I rang when I always come and go 
just as if I lived here. Well, the truth is, I wanted 
to talk to you, Dennis,” he continued more seri¬ 
ously. “"What’s this cock-and-bull story of Uncle 
Jasper going in search of the fountain of youth, 
and leaving me here to look after his crazy old 
house which I wouldn’t take for a gift?” 

“And how did you hear of it so soon, Mr. 
Charles?” asked Dennis in wonder. “ ’Tisn’t 
more than ten minutes since the lawyer left.” 

“Oh, then, there really has been a lawyer here, 
has there?” said Charles, his tone manifesting 
his surprise. “Uncle Jasper told me some crazy 
tale to that effect last night before I left him, 
but I thought it was another ruse to get me to 


24 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


come and live with him. Live here? In this 
tomb?’’ He glanced around at the somber walls, 
the worn carpets and the forbidding doors lead¬ 
ing to the various rooms from the hall where 
they stood, and he shrugged his shoulders, ac¬ 
companying the movement with a little shiver in¬ 
dicative of youthful repudiation of somberness 
and gloom in any form. 

^H’m surprised,” he said, after a pause, ‘^that 
he admitted a stranger to his room. I thought 
you and I were the only privileged characters 
there.” 

^‘He didn’t admit him to his room,” said Den¬ 
nis. ‘^He received him in the library.” 

‘‘In the library!” exclaimed Charles. “How 
in the world did you ever get him down there?” 

“I didn’t get him down; he came down him¬ 
self,” explained Dennis. 

Mr. Charles turned amazed eyes on Dennis. 
“Is he in there now? Or did you get him back 
to his room?” he asked. 

“Neither, Mr. Charles. You’ll scarcely believe 
it, but ’twas all by himself he went, and he threat¬ 
ened me with his cane for offering to help him,” 
explained the nonplused Dennis. 

Mr. Charles regarded him a moment, and then 
broke into laughter. 

“That only goes to prove what I’ve sometimes 
suspected,” he said, “and that is that he is not 
so helpless as he would have us believe—foxy old 



THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 25 

Uncle Jasper! How far do you think he^s going 
to carry this thing, Dennis? What do you think 
is his next move!^’ 

think he really means to go, Mr. Charles,” 
said Dennis, with conviction. ‘‘You mind that 
you told me he wanted his trunk brought to his 
room last night, and the both of us thought it 
was out of his head he was, but I brought it 
down to humor him and left it standing in the 
hall outside his door. And iUs out of his head 
he may be yet for all I know.” 

“Did he seem all right when you took him his 
breakfast?” 

“He wouldn’t let me in, but he called to me 
that he would ring when he wanted me, and the 
next I knew he was ringing from the library. 
There’s nothing to do, of course, but to humor 
him, but he has me guessing this time.” 

“Well, let’s go up and see how he feels after 
his extraordinary adventure.” Charles moved 
toward the stairs, but Dennis hesitated. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Charles,” he explained. 
“Mr. Bowen was vexed with me for otfering to 
assist him up the stairs, and he threatened me 
with his cane if I went near him again without 
orders.” 

“He did, did he?” laughed Charles. “Well, 
then, come up and stand by while I take the bull 
by the horns. Who knows but he’ll toss me 
out?” 


26 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

Dennis followed his leader up the stairway, but 
stood at a respectful distance from his master ^s 
door, which was the one leading into the first 
room at the left of the staircase. Mr. Charles 
tapped on the door and opened it a crack with¬ 
out waiting for a reply. 

Who’s that?” came the familiar, harsh tones 
from inside. ‘‘Dennis, didn’t I tell you I’d 
beat you to a pulp if you offered me any 
more of your unrequired services? Be otf with 
you.” 

“Good morning. Uncle Jasper,” called out 
Charles, cheerfully, cautiously pushing the door 
further open and standing on the threshold, his 
hand still holding the door-knob, “that’s a cordial 
way to greet a loving nephew who comes to call 
on a sick uncle. You sound like a blood-thirsty 
pugilist.” 

At this the old man emitted horrible, cacopho¬ 
nous sounds, which were meant for laughter— 
Dennis always hated to hear him laugh. It was, at 
its best, ghastly, but there was some quality in 
it this morning, malicious, triumphant, ominous, 
which made Dennis turn around and glance down 
the stairway as if to assure himself there was 
nothing sinister behind him, much as he used to 
do in his childhood when he had to pass a grave¬ 
yard at twilight. Mr. Charles had steadier 
nerves, however. He had heard more terrifying 
sounds in his recent experiences than an old 


THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 27 

man^s laughter. He turned an amused counte¬ 
nance to Dennis, held up his hand significantly, 
twirled his fingers, and waved a gesture of dis¬ 
missal. Then he disappeared into his uncle’s 
room, and the door closed behind him. 

Dennis stood a moment gazing at the closed 
door; but he was reminded of his duties imme¬ 
diately by feeling a draft coming from some¬ 
where. He went to the front of the hall and 
closed a window. When he returned and passed 
old Jasper’s door, he heard the two men convers¬ 
ing. Then he passed on down the stairway and 
returned to the kitchen. 

Ann was preparing lunch and making her usual 
caustic remarks about the meagerness of Miss 
Eleanor’s menu contrasted with the abundance 
of old Jasper’s. 

Whatever’s on the man, I don’t know. Yes¬ 
terday you brought down the most of what I 
sent up, and to-day ’tis a full meal he wants. 
Very likely the most of that will come down again 
and it not fit for any one to eat, and all the while 
Miss Eleanor pinin’ away for want of nourishin’ 
food. I hope to my God a judgment will fall on 
him, so I do!” 

‘‘You have no call to be cursin’ him, Ann,” 
protested Dennis mildly. “The judgment of God 
will fall where it will. He took his stick to me for 
offering to help him up the stairs, and if he 
falls and breaks his old bones, ’twill be nothin’ 


28 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

but the judgment of God on him, and no blame 
to me.’’ 

He busied himself about the kitchen while tell¬ 
ing Ann the events of the morning, and was busy 
in the dining-room later laying the cloth for Miss 
Eleanor’s luncheon when Mr. Charles came in. 

‘‘Well, Dennis,” he said somewhat excitedly, 
“he really means to go. He has made arrange¬ 
ments to go to some crazy place up in the Con¬ 
necticut hills, so there’s nothing for us to do but 
to get him otf as comfortably as we can. He is 
determined to go this afternoon. There’s a train 
leaving the Grand Central somewhere around 
4:30, I think. You’ll have to see him otf, for I 
have an engagement I can’t break. I’ll pack his 
trunk. Then I’ll get him dressed and as present¬ 
able as possible, and you must do the rest.” 

“And his tickets and reservations, Mr. Charles. 
Shall I attend to them?” 

“Yes, as soon as you have served Miss Elea¬ 
nor’s lunch, go out and attend to it. Get a state¬ 
room if you can. Here’s the name of the station 
on this card, Smithville, Connecticut, and here is 
the money. This will cover the taxi fare and 
pay the expressman—oh, yes! I nearly forgot 
the trunk. Take it with you in the taxi when you 
take him to the station, and don’t forget to give 
the check to Uncle Jasper. Can you remember 
all that?” He smiled pleasantly as he handed 
the card and money to Dennis. 


THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 


29 


‘HVe done more than that for the family, 
many^s the time,^’ said Dennis, with dignity, ham 
dling the bills with easy familiarity, ‘^and I have 
yet to see the first time IVe lost my head/’ 
Charles smiled winningly. ‘‘That’s why I’m 
trusting you now, you know.” 

Dennis was mollified. “Are you staying to take 
luncheon with Miss Eleanor?” he said, and 
quaked in his boots for fear he would declare 
his intention of so doing. 

“No, Dennis, thank you. That’s too much to 
ask of any able-bodied man. Do you think I’m 
a canary? I know Miss Eleanor’s menu as well 
as you do, and you know I’d get poor pickings 
there, if your table does look as though you were 
giving a banquet. Queer notion that of Uncle 
Jasper, to feast her eyes with silver and fine 
linen and starve her body. Well, I’ll be going. 
You’ll serve Uncle’s lunch as usual. He has re¬ 
covered from the atfront you gave to his pride.” 

He passed out of the dining-room, and Dennis 
heard him humming: 

“Jog on, jog on, the footpath way. 

And merrily hent the stile-a; 

A merry heart goes all the way. 

Your sad tires in a mile-a.” 


CHAPTER IV 


OLD JASPER TRUNK 

M r. CHARLES was right. Old Jasper was 
extremely amiable when Dennis brought 
him his luncheon. He was still in his 
yellow dressing-gown and yellow cap, but his 
clothes were laid out on the bed ready to be 
donned later. He was in high spirits, and gave 
Dennis the impression of a man who had had a 
great burden lifted from his shoulders. He in¬ 
structed Dennis to carry out all Mr. Charles’s 
wishes to the letter, and hinted at ample reward 
in the future. 

^‘And Miss Eleanor, sir?” Dennis ventured. 
‘‘Will I get the allowance for her from Mr. 
Charles ? ’ ’ 

The old man made a strange sound in his 
throat, and Dennis was afraid he was going to 
laugh again, but the sound resolved itself into a 
mild chuckle. 

“Mr. Charles will see to everything—every¬ 
thing, Dennis, and I am confident he will be as 
liberal with Miss Eleanor as I have always been.” 
He was as bland as the quality of his cracked 
old voice would permit. 

30 



OLD JASPER’S TRUNK 


31 


Dennis made no further conversation, but 
silently placed the dishes on the tray, straight¬ 
ened a chair or two, and left the room. He went 
below and served Miss Eleanor’s luncheon, after 
which he and Ann ate theirs hurriedly in the 
servants’ dining-room, but not so hurriedly that 
Ann could not indulge in a few reminiscences. 

‘‘And only yesterday you were tellin’ me ’twas 
in his last sickness he was, and that he’d never 
rise from his bed again, ’ ’ she reminded him, pour¬ 
ing his tea from a plump, ivory-colored teapot 
embellished with scenes from the Vale of Glen- 
dalough. 

“I did, indeed, tell you that same, Ann, and 
good reason I had to think it,” he responded, 
taking the cup from her hand. “ ’Tis a miracle, 
and nothing more nor less.” 

“Well, mind your hand there. There’s no need 
to be spillin’ the tea all over the cloth. There’d 
be some sense in your shakin’ if ’twas dead he 
was,” said Ann complacently. 

“I’m free to say to you that I’m as creepy as 
if there was actually a corpse in the house,” he 
confessed despondently, stirring his tea violently 
to conceal the trembling of his hand. “I can’t 
explain it, and I can’t shake it off, and you can 
laugh at me if you’re so disposed, so there!” 
he declared, compelled to relieve himself of the 
depression that had been hanging over him. 

“Well, there’s no call to be speakin’ to me like 


32 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

that, and you needn’t be pokin’ your spoon 
through the bottom of your cup. I understand 
you without all that to-do. ’Tis small wonder 
you’re a bit upset with all this up and down, and 
down and up business. I wish to my God he’d 
do wan thing or another and be done with it. 
Have a bite of the cheese with your bread, man, 
and put a heart in you.” 

Assured of Ann’s sympathy, which, to do her 
justice, she never withheld when he was in real 
need, he finished his meal with restored confi¬ 
dence. He was more composed when, a little be¬ 
fore four o’clock, he ascended to old Jasper’s 
room to announce the arrival of the taxicab. 

Mr. Charles had assisted his uncle to dress, 
and a strange figure he presented. His thin form 
was concealed beneath a queerly cut black cloth 
cape under which appeared loosely hanging pan¬ 
taloons encasing his spidery legs. On his head 
he wore a broad-brimmed Quaker hat, a size too 
large, giving the impression that his head had 
shrunk from its covering. A few straggling gray 
locks fell from beneath the brim and rested on 
the velvet collar of his cape. 

He was pathetically nervous and unstrung. 
His hands trembled and he stumbled unseeingly 
on the edge of a rug. All the bravado of the 
morning was gone. He fidgeted nervously about 
his trunk and watched Dennis uneasily while he 
removed it to the corridor. There he bade him 


OLD JASPER’S TRUNK 


33 


leave it until lie was ready to accompany it. He 
was uneasy about his wallet; he transferred it 
from one pocket to another, and then back again. 
At last he held it in both hands and appealingly 
approached Dennis. Glancing suspiciously about 
the room he whispered in his peculiarly repellent 
voice: ‘^Take care of it for me until we get to 
the train. Everybody knows I am a rich man, 
and I’ll be robbed—perhaps murdered,” he shud¬ 
dered. ‘‘There’s a lot of money in it. What 
could I do if I were attacked on the way?” 

Dennis felt the thick wallet being thrust into 
his hand, and all his instincts rebelled against 
taking responsibility for another man’s money. 
But this man was so childish, so helpless, that 
Dennis indulgently yielded and placed the wallet 
in his inside pocket. Then old Jasper was ready 
to leave. On the threshold of the room he was 
leaving to take this eccentric journey, he turned 
and gave a long backward look. Then he bade 
Dennis lock the door behind them; after which 
he took the key and placed it carefully in his 
own pocket. 

“Don’t let anybody come in here and mess my 
things up while I’m away. Promise me that no¬ 
body shall come into this room. Nobody but Mr. 
Charles. You hear me, Dennis! Nobody but my 
dear nephew, Mr. Charles. Do you promise!” 
he asked eagerly, pressing Dennis’s arm. 

“Nobody but myself to clean it up a bit,” Den- 


34 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

nis soothingly assured him, ‘^but how I^m to do 
that same without a key I don’t know at all.” 

‘‘I don’t want it cleaned up until I come back, 
and then we’ll have new furniture all over the 
house. My nephew will like that. We must do 
everything we can to please him, and then he 
won’t go away and leave me again.” 

Anxiously he watched Dennis shoulder the 
trunk. Then following with his traveling hag in 
his hand he slowly descended the stairs, passed 
through the door which Ann held open for them, 
down the flight of stone steps and entered the 
taxi-cab. 

Dennis, having disposed of the trunk, was about 
to place the traveling bag on the seat with the 
driver, but old Jasper called him. 

‘‘Dennis,” he said, placing his gloved finger to 
his lipSj “be cautious. Put the bag in with me!” 

Dennis humored him, and placed the bag inside 
the cab with its owner. 

“Do you want me to sit inside, too, sir?” he 
felt compelled to inquire; but for some unaccount¬ 
able reason he devoutly hoped this service would 
not be required of him. 

To his intense relief it was not. He mounted 
the seat of the cab beside the driver who steered 
the car into its place in the procession of motor 
cars and green omnibuses moving down the Ave¬ 
nue. Turning into Forty-second Street, they were 
held up by a traffic officer who was releasing auto- 


OLD JASPER TRUNK 


35 


mobiles from a blockade caused by a line iof 
stalled surface cars. But, of all this, Dennis was 
scarcely conscious. The face of the portrait ap¬ 
peared before him, warning—cautioning him to 
be on his guard. His mind was in a most con¬ 
fused state when they drew up at the automobile 
entrance of the station. 

He pulled himself together with an effort, and 
sprang down from his seat, paid the fare, and 
assisted his charge to alight. He half expected 
that the sight of the hurrying crowds, the swift 
and confusing movement of the numerous auto¬ 
mobiles, together with that nameless thing about 
a crowded railway station that makes the hearts 
of the timid beat with nervous apprehension 
would intimidate the old man, and induce him to 
abandon his capricious journey, and return in 
the same cab that had brought him hither. But 
another surprise was in store for him. He had 
reckoned without sufficient knowledge of the re¬ 
sources of his erratic master. The excitement 
served to stimulate the flagging energy and put 
fresh vigor in the trembling limbs. He needed 
no assistance to alight, and he refused to enter 
the Pullman until he had personally seen his 
trunk placed in the baggage car. 

‘‘Trust a railroad just while your eye is on 
them,’’ he advised Dennis, who was vainly trying 
to assure him that the trunk would be properly 
cared for without his assistance. “Robbers, 


36 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

every man Jack of them, from the president 
down. What they donT steal, they smash. 1^11 
see that trunk put on properly myself. Julius 
Caesar was right when he said: ‘If you want a 
thing well done, do it yourself!^ 

He watched the trunk with anxious interest 
while it was being transferred from the truck to 
the baggage-car. Then he was content to be led 
by Dennis to the Pullman and to be placed com¬ 
fortably in the stateroom which had been reserved 
for him. 

“Good-by,’^ he said, as Dennis was about to 
leave him. “Be sure you look well after Mr. 
Charles.’’ 

Dennis reassured him on this point, then re¬ 
turned to the platform and waited until he saw 
the conductor give the signal and the train glide 
away. 




CHAPTER V 

GLOBE HOLLOW 

S MITHVILLE was a junction where two im¬ 
portant railway lines crossed; otherwise ex¬ 
press trains would not have stopped at so 
unimportant a station,. It lay in a flat valley with 
pleasantly smiling wooded hills rising to the north 
and eastward. The station itself with its ad¬ 
joining warehouses was new and well kept. A 
trolley track stretching a mile or two to the north¬ 
ward indicated the direction of the village. 

At train time there were always to be seen 
several ^‘For Hire’’ automobiles waiting about 
the station, for there were many traveling sales¬ 
men alighting at this junction to visit the three 
small towns which lay in a triangle within easy 
driving distance. 

At the close of a late September afternoon the 
usual collection of people were assembled at the 
station to await the arrival of the east-bound 
express. A couple of salesmen were chewing the 
ends of half-consumed cigars and lamenting the 
dullness of business. Two young women with 
suit-cases were, from time to time, impatiently 

consulting their wrist watches. A tired-looking 

37 


38 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


woman with a restless and inquisitive child, a 
few workmen, and the ’bus drivers comprised the 
rest of the group. 

To while away the tedium of waiting, the hack- 
men were guying one of their number about a 
new vehicle—or rather a type of vehicle new to 
Smithville—^which had, on its first appearance 
that day, roused their merriment. It was merely 
an ordinary taxicab, but in a community where 
a Ford touring car is the established convention 
for a ’bus, and where the rates are as fixed as 
the summer solstice—twenty-five cents to the vil¬ 
lage, two dollars to Harwood, and three to Mid¬ 
dleton and return—the appearance of this strange 
equipage furnished sufficient grounds for mirth. 
Having exhausted their fund of jokes on the 
meter, Jo Mooney tapped a new source of humor. 

‘‘Was you ’fraid of them pretty school-teachers 
from the Normal School, Bill, that made you git 
a shet-up ’bus?” 

A unanimous shout of laughter flattered the 
originator of this witty remark. 

“Gosh!” ejaculated Jim Wheeler. “If I was 
one of them girls and had to ride with as humbly 
a man as Bill, I’d want him to have a shet-up 
’bus.” 

When the laughter from this sally had mod¬ 
erated, Jo Hawkins drew a coin from his pocket, 
and held it up jocosely between thumb and fore¬ 
finger. 


GLOBE HOLLOW 


39 


‘‘Tell you what, Bill,’’ he offered, “I’ll bet you 
this dime to a copper that you won’t get a human 
bein’ to ride in your new-fangled contraption 
’less all the other ’busses is crammed full.” 

“I’ll take you,” responded Bill promptly. 
“Hold the stakes, Jim.” He drew a copper coin 
from his pocket and flipped it carelessly to Jim, 
who caught it deftly and demanded a coin from 
Jo. 

Very few passengers alighted, but among them, 
carrying a goodly-sized traveling bag, was one 
who was as great an anomaly at the little country 
junction as Bill’s taxicab. It was a sprightly lit¬ 
tle old man with remarkably keen, bright blue 
eyes, dressed in a manner strange even to eyes 
familiar with many novel costumes on the movie 
screen. 

Two hours in a Pullman car had quite rejuve¬ 
nated Uncle Jasper. He declined the porter’s 
offer to carry the traveling bag, and skipped 
quite briskly past the row of solicitous drivers 
to make a critical inspection of their cars. 

“Whose car is that!” he sharply demanded, 
pointing a gloved forefinger at the maligned taxi. 

Bill stepped forward, and acknowledged the 
ownership. 

“This’ll do. Just right. I have a trunk. Can 
you take it in here?” demanded the passenger 
brusquely. 

“Yes, sir,” said Bill respectfully, taking the 


40 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

bag from bis band and depositing it in tbe car. 
^‘Step right in, sir. If yon will give me yonr 
check, I will get tbe trunk for you.’^ 

Tbe old man was bolding the check in bis band, 
but be did not resign it to Bill. 

^^No, sir. I never trust my check to a stranger. 
Idl go with you and see that my trunk is prop¬ 
erly salvaged from this predatory railroad com¬ 
pany.’’ 

He stepped briskly along after Bill, who could 
not refrain from throwing a derisive look at bis 
comrades as be passed them, and did not leave 
his side until he saw tbe trunk taken from the 
truck and properly released by the baggage man. 
His peculiar cape flapping about his thin body, 
the ill-fitting Quaker hat covering the tops of his 
ears and almost obscuring his face, together with 
his gesture of clasping and unclasping his gray 
suede fingers, excited the risibilities of the other 
cabmen, and Bill was hard put to it to retain his 
own gravity. 

When he had the trunk loaded on the cab and 
the old gentleman safely installed inside, Bill 
walked over to the group, and holding out a broad 
palm said, with a grin: ‘H’ll take the stakes, 
Jim. ’ ’ 

Not by a damsite,” retorted Jo. ‘‘That ain’t 
no human bein’.” 

Bill joined in the uproarious laughter that fol¬ 
lowed this witty retort, and then returned to his 


GLOBE HOLLOW 41 

cab and presented a very grave and respectful 
face to bis fare. 

Where to, sirT’ he inquired. 

“Do you know where Globe Hollow isT’ 
sharply demanded his passenger. 

‘‘ Why, yes, sir,’’ replied Bill in surprise. “It’s 
about seven miles up yonder mountain road, but 
there ain’t nobody livin’ up there.” 

“Who said I wanted to see ‘anybody living’?” 
snapped the passenger. “All I asked you was 
whether you know the way to Globe Hollow.” 

“And I say I do know it all right,” explained 
Bill, “but I just want to tell you that there ain’t 
nothin’ up there but a coupla deserted woodcut¬ 
ters’ cabins. They been clearin’ up there for 
two or three years, but they got the wood mostly 
drawed off, and there ain’t been nobody livin’ 
up there this summer.” 

“My friend,” said the old man sarcastically, 
“may I ask if the fact that there’s nobody been 
living there for two years precludes the possi¬ 
bility of anybody ever going there again?” 

Bill pushed his hat forward on his brow and 
contemplatively scratched the back of his head. 
Finally light dawned on him. 

“I reckon you’re aimin’ to go up to that artist 
colony that used to be up there. But ’tain’t there 
any more. The wood cutters used the cottages 
and they’ve cleared out all that spot where it 
used to be. Excuse me for tollin’ you, sir, but 


42 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


I know it’ll be only throwin’ good money away 
to drive up there, for you’d only have to come 
back again. I’ll have to charge you five dollars 
for that trip,” Bill warned. 

Old Jasper thrust his gloved hand inside the 
breast of his coat and drew forth his bulky wallet. 
He deliberately opened it and displayed a sheaf 
of yellow-backed bills. 

<<There’s ten thousand dollars in that wad,” 
he said impressively. ‘‘Now, do you think I can 
persuade you to stop haggling over the price, 
and get down to business and take me where I 
want to go without further argument ? ’ ’ His blue 
eyes flashed ominously at the recalcitrant cab¬ 
man. 

Bill fell back on his heels and gasped. 

“Good Lord, a nut!” he said under his breath. 

Bill was in a dilemma. If he took his passenger 
to the place to which he insisted on going, how 
could he come away and leave this demented old 
man in a God-forsaken place like Globe Hollow? 
But the laugh would be on him if he lost his pas¬ 
senger now. He resolved to drive on and seek 
a solution on the way. 

The road ran parallel with the trolley track 
until they reached the village—once a charming, 
rural New England village, but now defaced with 
the debris from the paper mills—then they turned 
eastward on a good macadam road for a couple 
of miles. Presently they turned off the main 


GLOBE HOLLOW 43 

road into a little used thoroughfare which grew 
rough and still rougher as they proceeded. Deep 
ruts made by loaded wood-wagons in the spring¬ 
time retarded their progress; and many times 
old Jasper had difficulty in keeping his seat. The 
highways were bordered with tangled weeds and 
shrubs just catching the first touches of crimson 
and gold of autumn. All along the wayside the 
goldenrod nodded its graceful yellow head above 
the starry blue of the asters. Flocks of purple 
grackles vied with the busy goldfinches in picking 
the seeds and scarlet berries in the hedges. 

Far up the climbing road, they passed a clear¬ 
ing where a bald, new house, together with a 
garden plot and a cow testified to the beginning 
of a home in the New World for the fair-haired 
Scandinavian, who, with his wife and two little 
children, watched them until they were out of 
sight. 

At last, after dodging many deep ruts, and 
plunging unavoidably into others, they descended 
into the depressed, oval space that was known 
as Globe Hollow. All about them were the man¬ 
gled stumps of trees, despoiled of their trunks 
to feed the greedy maw of a sawmill farther on. 
On the outer rim, and forming a background to 
the devastated tract, rose stunted pines and scrub 
oak and chestnut trees. 

^^This here place is what they call Globe Hol¬ 
low,’’ said Bill, halting his car and waving his 


44 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

hand deprecatingly over the desolate landscape. 
His passenger made signs of dismounting. 

^‘But this is all there is to it,’’ objected Bill. 

There ain’t a stick or a stone in the old shack 
you see there. I brought a party up here fishin’ 
in July and there wasn’t as much as you could 
put in your eye in it then. ’ ’ 

Bill was wasting his breath, for his passenger 
had stepped from the cab and was looking about 
him. 

God’s good open,” he breathed, sniffing the 
fragrant air. ‘^You don’t understand how any 
man in his senses could want to be left alone for 
a short space, do you, my man!” he said, turn¬ 
ing to Bill. ‘ ^ Now, I’m in my senses. Don’t make 
the mistake of thinking I’m demented. And I 
want to be alone. When you’ve seen as much 
of this damnable old world as I have, you’ll think 
Globe Hollow is Paradise. Now, let’s explore 
this shack and see what is here.” 

Bill followed him across the decayed threshold 
—there was no door. One glance was sufficient 
to see all there was there. A paneless window, 
a broken chair—three legs missing—and the in¬ 
ventory was complete. 

‘‘Now, I guess you’ll be glad to go back with 
me,” Bill said confidently. 

“It isn’t very inviting. I’ll have to admit,” said 
the old man, stepping out into the gathering twi¬ 
light again. “But I’m going to stay here one 


GLOBE HOLLOW 45 

night and steep my soul in the blessed silence 
of the place. I have blankets, and food, and wine 
in my trunk. I shall make my bed here in the 
open, and under the silent stars I shall have one 
night of blessed, blessed peace. By the way,’’ 
he asked suddenly, ‘^you don’t happen to have 
a bothersome niece, do you?” 

Bill admitted that he was free from that par¬ 
ticular trouble. 

^^Well, then, of course you wouldn’t under¬ 
stand,” he explained. ‘‘Now, you do understand 
that it is quite feasible for a man who wishes 
solitude to spend a night here in perfect safety, 
and in comparative comfort. Why, man, I feel 
my years dropping away from me already. I 
may stay here a year for all I know, and I shall, 
of course, want supplies. Can you bring me some 
bread and cheese to-morrow about 12 o’clock?” 

“There’s a train I have to make at 12:45,” ex¬ 
plained Bill, “but I could come right away after 
that, if that’ll suit you.” 

“That will do perfectly. Don’t come before 
that. I may sleep till noon.” He drew forth his 
wallet again, and carefully extracted a bill which 
he handed to the driver. Bill’s eyes bulged when 
he caught sight of the denomination. 

“You see that it pays any one to serve me 
well,” observed the old man significantly. 

“A nut, escaped from the Middleton asylum, 
sure enough,” thought Bill. “They’ll be huntin’ 


46 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


the country over for him before I get here to¬ 
morrow. ’ ’ 

^‘Well, I wish you a pleasant night of it, if 
you like this kind of a thing. Some does,” he 
said aloud, placing the money rather reluctantly ' 
in his pocket. ^‘But money is money,” he said 
to himself, answering some inner compunction 
about taking money from a ^^nut.” 

He stepped into his car again, and waving a 
farewell to his passenger, he rolled away, leaving 
old Jasper alone with the blasted tree trunks, 
the mournful whippoorwills, and the falling night. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SPEAKING POBTRAIT 

A BOUT the time that Bill Hawkins was pick- 
ing his way down the unfrequented moun¬ 
tain road, easing the strain on his car by 
avoiding the deep ruts whenever possible, and 
attempting to ease his mind of any responsibility 
for leaving the strange old man alone in the 
gloomy hollow, Eleanor Bowen was sitting in the 
chilly dining-room of the house called, by cour¬ 
tesy, her home; and Dennis was standing behind 
her chair. 

An overhead flickering gas-light fell upon 
gleaming china carefully laid out on a rich 
damask cloth, and likewise on a solitary lamb 
chop stranded in a desert of silver platter. It 
lighted up, when the cover was removed, a single 
baked potato reposing in the capacious depths of 
a massive tureen. With crude impartiality, it 
discovered on the carved mahogany sideboard, a 
small, slightly spotted, plebeian red apple, the 
sole occupant of a superb Royal Doulton fruit 
dish. 

These were the things that stood out conspicu¬ 
ously to Eleanor^s eyes, for she was hungry; but 

she was beginning to see things in the strange 

47 


48 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

household for which she was not indebted to the 
gas-light. When the chop and potato had been 
disposed of, and the red peel of the apple was 
falling from her fingers and dropping in rosy 
curls on a crystal plate, she suddenly said: 

‘^Dennis.’’ 

‘‘Yes, miss,” Dennis responded, startled at her 
tone. 

“You seem very preoccupied of late,” she re¬ 
minded him. “Have you anything on your 
mind?” 

“Yes, miss,—no, miss,” he faltered. 

She smiled thoughtfully, and ran the blade of 
her fruit knife around a brown spot on the side 
of the apple. 

Dennis had spoken to Ann of Miss Eleanor^s 
pale face and melancholy eyes. It was true. She 
was pale, and there were dark circles under her 
blue-gray eyes, and there was a brooding trouble 
in their depths. But these were not evidences 
of constitutional frailness. She was only twenty- 
three, and she was virtually a prisoner in an 
ogre’s castle. She was starved—starved for food 
and for companionship. 

Nearly six months ago, in response to an un¬ 
accountably delayed cable, she had returned from 
France, where she had been in the service, to 
find that her mother had died and that Uncle 
Jasper had administered the estate which Elea¬ 
nor had always supposed to be ample, but which 


THE SPEAKING PORTRAIT 49 

Uncle Jasper informed her was insufficient to 
pay even the funeral expenses. He had morosely 
invited her to bring her furniture and two serv¬ 
ants from her home in Denver—indeed they were 
in New York awaiting her when she arrived— 
and make her home with him. She had no other 
relative, and she had only vaguely heard her 
Uncle Jasper spoken of; but she discovered 
shortly after her arrival that she was the only 
heir to his estate, the only male heir having been 
killed in France in a heroic fight with a German 
airplane. 

At first she had visions of being a daughter 
to this lonely old man who sorely needed care, 
and was prepared to bestow upon him the affec¬ 
tion she had been wont to lavish upon her mother. 
She was appalled at the unsanitary condition of 
the house and at the old man’s unhygienic manner 
of living, and she attempted to remedy both. She 
was quickly disillusioned. He repelled her ad¬ 
vances, and constantly lamented the death of 
Charles, the last of the male line of Bowen. 

Not that he loved Charles. He never loved 
anybody, and, moreover, he had never seen that 
young man. He had never encouraged visits 
from his relatives, being too suspicious of their 
motives. But now that he was awaiting a sum¬ 
mons that he had reason to believe would be 
swift and sudden—a summons that grieved him 
more by the thought of what he was leaving than 


50 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


of any dread of the future, the thought of divorc¬ 
ing the Bowen money from the Bowen name was 
gall and wormwood to him. 

He had tolerated Eleanor under his roof, and 
instructed Dennis and Ann to look after her. But 
he let it be tacitly understood that his obliga¬ 
tions ended there. He didn’t care for her soci¬ 
ety. Indeed, he had been confined to his room 
during the last few weeks and she had led her 
solitary life apart from him. She had been physi¬ 
cally comfortable until a month ago, when Charles 
had suddenly, as it were, risen from the dead and 
changed the whole state of things. The old man 
soon thereafter refused to see Eleanor at all. He 
grew more and more feeble each day, and, with 
the exception of Dennis and the doctor, he would 
see no one but his nephew. In order to hoard for 
Charles, he began to dole out money in increas¬ 
ingly smaller sums for Eleanor’s maintenance; 
and, of late, had entirely withheld the not too 
liberal allowance of pocket money with which he 
had at first supplied her. 

Charles deplored this state of atfairs, and 
begged her, unavailingly, to accept an allowance 
from him. He assured her that Uncle Jasper, 
indulgent to him in every other way, turned 
adamantine ears to all his appeals for a more 
liberal treatment of her. But as Charles became 
increasingly kind. Uncle Jasper preserved the 
balance by growing more harsh and miserly. 


THE SPEAKING PORTRAIT 51 

She was grateful to Charles—or tried to be. 
She called herself a jealous hussy because she 
could not bring herself to respond more warmly 
to his proffered friendship. Some vague, elusive 
quality in his personality repelled her. She re¬ 
called him dimly as she had known him when 
they were children—a lovable boy with appealing 
brown eyes. Her conscience commanded her to 
overcome her aversion, but her instinct rebelled. 
She, therefore, avoided him as much as possible, 
for she had to exercise the greatest self-control 
not to make her aversion apparent. 

And lately he had begun to make love to her. 
The situation was becoming intolerable, even un¬ 
der the nominal protection of her uncle; but now 
that Uncle Jasper, whose exhausted heart had 
held out many days beyond the doctor ^s predic¬ 
tion, had suddenly revived and taken this unac¬ 
countable journey, what position did it leave her 
in? It was time for her to pause and think to 
some purpose. 

Dennis had been holding the finger-bowl for 
some time before she took notice of it. With a 
start, she dipped her fingers in the water, and 
while she was wiping them on a napkin, she fixed 
her eyes searchingly on Dennis’s face. 

‘‘What did you say, Dennis?” she suddenly 
demanded. 

“Nothing, miss. I said nothing, miss,” he 
stammered. 


52 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

‘^Oh, yes, you did,^^ she contradicted, without 
removing her eyes from his face. ‘‘I asked you 
if you had something on your mind, and you said, 
^Yes, miss—no, miss.’ Now didn’t you?” 

‘‘Yes, miss—no, miss,” stammered the embar¬ 
rassed butler. In the effort to get out of the 
range of her eyes, he dropped a napkin. He was 
deliberate and long about picking it up. 

Eleanor was no medieval maiden languishing 
in a moated grange, but a very energetic and mod¬ 
ern young woman. She had returned from her 
work overseas very much exhausted, and her ap¬ 
parent lassitude since she had been back was the 
resultant fatigue of her war experience, and was 
in no wise indicative of her normal temperament. 
Now a situation was arising which seemed to be 
bringing some sinister menace to her, and she 
knew that action of some kind was required of 
her. What kind of action she didn’t know; but 
there was no harassing doubt in her mind as to 
when to begin. It was the present moment. Den¬ 
nis, being conveniently at hand, she began with 
him. 

“Dennis,” she asked at random, by way of an 
opening, “how did Uncle Jasper stand the ride 
to the station?” 

Dennis shook his head slowly from side to side 
before replying. 

“If anybody had told me yesterday that he 
would ever rise from his bed again,” he replied 


THE SPEAKING PORTRAIT 53 

deliberately, would have called the same a 
liar; all I can say to you, miss, is he was able 
to get on the train. Who knows whether hell 
ever get off itT’ 

“Wliat do you think his reason for taking this 
wild journey in his feeble state of health, and 
without his doctor’s knowledge?” she pursued. 

‘‘ ’Tis past my knowledge to account for it, 
so it is. Miss Eleanor. He’s been that strange 
since Mr. Charles came home that I don’t know 
him myself half the time, if I do then, itself— 
and I after waitin’ on him this six months.” He 
continued to move his head dejectedly from side 
to side. 

She looked at him, a trifle perplexed. ‘‘Just 
what do you mean—you don’t know him?” she 
questioned. 

“Well, that I can’t explain to you,” he replied, 
passing his hand over his brow, “for ’tis that 
same is puzzlin’ me. ’Tis just the queer feelin’ 
I have had all the day that ’tis not himself I’m 
waitin’ on but some one else entirely. Every 
dog knows his own master, and doesn’t have to 
be after puzzlin’ it out, and here’s myself—” 
He paused and glanced at the opposite wall. 
After a while he continued: “I suppose ’tis the 
portrait as does it.” 

“The portrait!” Eleanor repeated. Her won¬ 
dering eyes followed his and rested on the por¬ 
trait which had made such a moving appeal to 


54 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Dennis. At sight of it she recalled the story 
of how her father had stood smilingly on the deck 
of the Titanic after he had helped fill the last life¬ 
boat, and had gayly waved his cap in farewell 
when it was discovered there was no room for 
him. 

‘‘The portrait,’’ she repeated. 

“Yes, miss,” he replied, glad of her questions 
which gave him an opportunity to clarify his 
own thoughts. “I’m sure you won’t think shame 
of me, but of late, the eyes of that portrait— 
they’re like yours, miss—have been following me 
all around the room all the time I’m attendin’ 
to my duties. ’Tis like he wants something. 
’Twas no longer ago than yesterday, when I stood 
behind your chair, the eyes of the two of us met 
above the top of your head, the while you w^ere 
eatin’ the poor scrap of a luncheon, which same 
God forgive me for servin’ you, I fancied it was 
wanting to speak to me he was. I was that sure 
of it that after you went out I was compelled to 
go and stand before it like I was goin’ to take 
orders from it. And the lips said to me as plain 
as I’m talkin’ to you now: ‘Keep your eyes open, 
Dennis, keep your eyes open. There’s some¬ 
thing wrong goin’ on,’ and he seemed to be beg- 
gin’ me to do somethin’, though what it is I’m 
expected to do is what I can’t make out at all. 
Just the now, the while you are eatin’ your din¬ 
ner, he seemed to be sayin’ again: ‘You’re a blind 


THE SPEAKING PORTRAIT 55 

fool, Dennis. You’re a blind fool.’ There’s 
somethin’ goin’ wrong, miss, you’ll forgive me 
for sayin’ it, but I’m sure of it.” 

Eleanor rose from the table, and her face went 
deadly white. Not that she attached any impor¬ 
tance to the speaking portrait, but Dennis had 
put into words her own half-formed thoughts. 
He had sensed an imminent danger where her 
duller perceptions had been only vaguely stirred. 
She clasped her hands over her breast as if to 
stifle her fears. 

‘‘Dennis,” she said, “I believe my father is 
asking you to be a friend to his daughter, and, 
oh, I know I am going to need you. I have no 
one in the world but Colonel Merriman, and he 
is so far away—dear God, bring him to me soon.” 
Her words ended in a sob which she vainly en¬ 
deavored to control. 

Dennis was deeply moved. He fixed his eyes 
on the portrait, and Eleanor heard the words: 

“You know. Miss Eleanor, that I promised 
your mother on her dying bed I’d be yours to 
command any hour of the day or night: and may 
the grass grow on my doorstep, and the fox make 
his nest on my hearthstone if I fail you.” 

The unfeigned earnestness of the solemn pledge 
warmed the heart of the lonely girl. 

“Thank you, Dennis, thank you,” she said fer¬ 
vently. “You don’t know how you have com¬ 
forted me—for I’m afraid—I’m afraid.” 


CHAPTER VII 


BRIDE OR REFUGEE 

E leanor had scarcely finished her meager 
breakfast next morning when Charles came 
breezily in. He always blew lightly into a 
room, as though he had been wafted there on 
a passing breeze. He sought and found Eleanor 
in the drawing-room whither she had gone to re¬ 
lieve Ann of the dusting and herself of the rest¬ 
lessness which had of late been growing upon her. 

‘^Good morning, fair cousin,’’ he sang out in 
his gay, ringing voice. ‘^By Jove! but you are 
ripping in the domestic role. I salute Penelope.” 
He placed his hand on his breast and laughingly 
swept her a graceful bow. 

‘‘You’re an early bird, Charles. We don’t ex¬ 
pect callers before we have tidied up the rooms,” 
she lamely retorted, making an attempt to imi¬ 
tate his vivacious and easy manner. 

“By Jove!” he exclaimed with mock indig¬ 
nation. “That’s hospitable, I must say. Why 
couldn’t you say, ‘You’re never too early to be 
welcome here’? ‘But man is born to bumps as 
the sparks fly upwards,’ as the proverb says,” he 
added lightly. 


56 



BRIDE OR REFUGEE 


57 


He walked over to the window and fumbled 
with its fastenings. ^^How do you manage to ex¬ 
ist here in this shut-in place, Eleanor U’ he ex¬ 
claimed impatiently. He opened the window and 
inhaled the fresh air that came pouring in. 
can’t bear a shut-in place of any kind,” he said, 
‘Ut makes me feel trapped, and brought to bay, 
as it were.” 

It was in Eleanor’s mind to say, ‘‘That is ex¬ 
actly the way I feel all the time you are here,” 
but she said simply: “You forget I have no choice 
in the matter.” 

“That’s just what I have come to talk to you 
about,” he promptly rejoined. “If you can lay 
aside that heathen Chinese idol whose sacred per¬ 
son you are defiling with a common, unconse¬ 
crated dust-cloth, and come and sit down a few 
minutes. I’ll explain a very unpleasant situation 
in my very pleasantest manner.” 

With an ingratiating smile, he placed his hands 
invitingly on the back of a deeply upholstered 
chair and waited for her to be seated. 

Her heart suddenly missed a beat or two; but 
since her conversation with Dennis the evening 
before, she was partially fortified against panic. 
The conviction that danger threatened her, and 
the entire ignorance of its character, her distrust 
of Charles, not to call the feeling by any other 
name, warned her to be on her guard. 

She affected not to notice the proffered chair, 


58 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

in which one could not sit without sinking help¬ 
lessly, with relaxed muscles, into its spacious and 
roomy depths, and chose instead an upright, 
straight-backed chair near the door. 

Charles laughed a trifle unpleasantly. 

Your attitude is a little unpropitious for what 
I have to tell you, I must say,^^ he remarked. 

His appraising eye took in the grace of the 
girPs figure in its alert pose, lithe and strong, 
yet appealingly feminine. He noted the straight 
lines of the blue linen morning dress she was 
wearing, above the white organdie collar of which 
her curving white neck arose, supporting, at the 
present moment, a rather too rigidly held head. 
Her skin was clear with a tint of olive. A little 
more color would make it exquisite. Hair, brown, 
with only the merest hint of a wave. He liked 
that. He hated frizzly hair. An altogether de¬ 
sirable mouth above a firm, round chin. He even 
marked the fine modeling of the hands which lay 
clasped on her blue linen lap. 

He had folded his arms, and stood leaning on 
the back of the chair she had discarded. 

“Why do you avoid me, EleanorP’ he pro¬ 
tested gently. “You know I love you, you ador¬ 
able thing. The more you hold me off, the more 
I want you.^^ 

Her eyes traveled curiously over him as though 
he were a remote actor on a stage performing 
for her benefit, and not expecting a reply. She 


59 


BRIDE^ OR REFUGEE 

suddenly caught herself up. Here was a man 
proposing to her. With a slight accession of 
color and a little laugh she said: 

‘‘Was that the very unpleasant thing you were 
going to say to me in a very pleasant wayU’ 

“Not unpleasant for me,’^ he replied quickly, 
“I wish I might be equally sure that it is not so 
to you.’’ 

Her eyes traced the design on the faded Bok¬ 
hara rug at her feet. Then, with a little frown, 
she looked squarely at him. 

“It is unpleasant for me,” she said, “and I 
hope you will not persist in talking that way. You 
said something about an unpleasant situation. I 
suppose you have reference to Uncle Jasper’s 
attitude towards me.” 

“Yes, it is just that,” he replied, “and that is 
why I want you to know that I resent his attitude, 
because I love every hair of your sweet head. I 
adore you, Eleanor, and my life is one long- 
drawn-out misery without you. I know I am in¬ 
directly responsible for his antipathy to you, but 
I wish you would believe me when I tell you that 
I have devoutly wished many times that I had 
never come back, when I have seen how disas¬ 
trously it has worked out for you—and for me, 
too, for that matter. For all I suffered in that 
pestilential prison camp is as nothing to the agony 
of carrying on without your love. Can’t you care 
for me a little, dearest one?” 


60 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

His voice was very low and tender and plead¬ 
ing as he moved toward her with outstretched 
hands. 

She rose defensively. 

sorry, Charles,^’ she said more gently, 
^‘but I can’t care for you in that way.” 

His eyes narrowed. ‘Hs there some one else!” 
he demanded. 

There was something disquieting in his tone 
and manner—something which prompted her to 
raise her eyes, and look steadily in his eyes while 
she uttered the half lie: ^^Oh, no, it isn’t that.” 

She could not account to herself for her reasons 
for denying the existence of Wayne Merriman; 
or why she should not tell all the world that with 
the army of occupation on the Rhine was the man 
whose existence she was now denying with her 
lips, but for whom she was longing with all her 
heart. She had not appealed to him, or explained 
her position to him; for he could not leave the 
service to come to her, and a knowledge of her 
troubles would only distress him. And, after all, 
the situation had, up to this point, been merely 
unpleasant, not unendurable. 

‘ ‘ Then marry me, Eleanor, ’ ’ he pleaded. ‘ ‘ You 
must let me take you away from this depressing 
place. I can’t bear to think of your spending 
your life alone. Come away with me. I’ll devote 
my life to you.” He moved a step nearer. 

“Don’t talk about it any more, please, Charles, 


BRIDE OR REFUGEE 61 

I beg of you,’’ she entreated, standing on the 
threshold poised for flight. 

‘‘I must talk about it. My passion is devour¬ 
ing me,” he declared, striking the palms of his 
hands together and clenching his fingers. ‘‘I 
won’t ask you to love me now; but let me take you 
away from here. We’ll go abroad—not to Prance, 
that holds too many unpleasant memories for both 
of us—^but to Italy, or, better still, Greece, or, best 
of all, Egypt. We’ll float among the lotus flowers 
on the Nile, and visit the ancient temples. We’ll 
make this musty hoard of Uncle Jasper’s blos¬ 
som into a thing of joy and beauty. You will 
come, beloved? You are not happy here, and you 
have nowhere to go. Here is your refuge.” He 
held out his arms appealingly and a trifle dramat¬ 
ically. 

She smiled a little, ignoring the proffered 
haven. 

^‘And where will Uncle Jasper be all this time 
we are spending his money in riotous living?” she 
asked, ironically. 

He missed the irony and interpreted her ques¬ 
tion as slight yielding. He came nearer, his face 
lighting. 

‘‘You will marry me? You will, you queen 
of women?” 

She was maneuvering to keep beyond the reach 
of his arms, and at the same time maintain a 
strategic position near the door. 


62 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^‘No, Charles, no,^^ she said. sorry. I 

appreciate the honor—but I donT love you. I 
couldn’t marry you. Please don’t have any illu¬ 
sion about my being forced to marry you because 
I’ve nowhere else to go. I’m sure you would soon 
tire of a wife who looked upon you merely as an 
orphan asylum.” 

She spoke lightly and smiled pleasantly at 
him, but she received no answering smile. His 
arms dropped to his sides. His expression per¬ 
ceptibly altered. After a pause, he said slowly: 

“You place me in a most embarrassing position 
—aside from the wound to my very deepest affec¬ 
tions.” 

As he did not explain, she was moved to in¬ 
quire : 

“Tell me how I embarrass you.” 

“That is the unpleasant thing I hoped I might 
not have to tell you. As my wife you need never 
have known it, ’ ’ he replied. 

A few quickened heart-beats warned her of ap¬ 
proaching trouble. He walked over to the table 
and picked up a bronze reproduction of Bologna’s 
Mercury, and regarded it so long without speak¬ 
ing that she began to wonder if he meant to put 
the wing-footed messenger to his original use. 

Finally he spoke: 

“My uncle, as you know”—she noticed that he 
did not say “our uncle”—“has conceived the 
most violent dislike for you. I do not believe it 


BEIDE OR REFUGEE 


63 


is personal, but only that he begrudges every 
penny that is diverted from my inheritance. Of 
course you know, as unfair as it is, he has the 
right to disinherit you, and he has made no secret 
of doing so. He has been growing daily more and 
more hostile to you in spite of all my elforts to 
prevent it. He has even carried his aversion to 
such an extent that just before he went away he 
gave me explicit instructions to—I can’t tell you 
how it grieves me to say this, dearest Eleanor— 
He gazed steadily at the ornament in his hand 
the while he tapped his foot agitatedly on the 
rug. 

‘‘To ask me to find another shelter?” she 
helped him out. 

“That was not just the way he put it. His 
instructions were to eject you from the house 
before his return.” He glanced at her through 
his amber glasses. “In fact, he acknowledged to 
me the last thing before he went away that his 
motive for going was to be beyond hearing your 
lamentations and pleas to remain.” 

Her eyes flashed, but he continued without ap¬ 
pearing to notice her. “He made me pledge my 
word that I would carry out his wishes to the 
letter and take immediate possession of the house 
myself.” No words can express the regret mani¬ 
fested by his manner. 

Now that she knew the truth she felt inexpres¬ 
sibly relieved. Unpleasant, surely, but nothing to 


.64 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

fill the breast of a healthy young woman with the 
nameless foreboding which had been gradually 
oppressing her and threatening to paralyze her. 
She looked at him composedly, and spoke with 
resurging courage, a barely perceptible touch of 
scorn in her voice. 

‘‘And you love me devotedly, and promised him 
that?’’ 

“You mistake me, Eleanor,” he hastened to as¬ 
sure her. “If I hadn’t promised to carry out his 
wishes, he assured me he would do it himself, 
and to use his own expression ‘see the job thor¬ 
oughly well done.’ It was for your sake I hu¬ 
mored him. Of course you understand I have no 
intention of carrying out my pledge. Uncle Jas¬ 
per may return any day and find you here, and 
I can’t answer for the consequences for you. As ■ 
for myself, he will probably disinherit me. I 
need not tell you that I would willingly sacrifice 
it all to save you one moment of annoyance.” 

He was so sincere and sympathetic and genu¬ 
ine that she was ashamed of the injustice she 
had done him. Her tone was more kindly when 
she spoke again. She left her position near the 
door which she had been all this time maintaining, 
and moved nearer to him. 

“Forgive me, Charles, for the unkind thought, 
but, of course, I shall not remain and jeopardize 
your inheritance. I shall be obliged to take ad¬ 
vantage of your generosity to remain a day or 


BRIDE OR REFUGEE 


65 


two. In the meantime I will look around for 
something to do. There are agencies, I know, 
where I can find employment.’’ 

She felt almost happy. The crystallization of 
all her vague apprehensions, her forebodings, and 
her poignant fears into something tangible was a 
distinct relief. 

‘‘That’s all nonsense,” he exclaimed. “Imag¬ 
ine a niece of the honorable house of Bowen 
searching for a job like a housemaid. Begging 
some snob to let her wheel a baby-carriage in a 
park. I’ll see you doing it! Some day, shy 
maiden, you’re going to be my wife, and I don’t 
relish the thought of having my wife pointed out 
as somebody’s former nurse-maid.” 

“Don’t delude yourself with that hope,” she 
said calmly. “I thank you for your hospitality, 
and I shall accept it gratefully until I can find 
something to do. And rather than run any risk 
of Uncle Jasper returning and disinheriting you, 
I would be willing to accept a small loan from 

I 

you—for I have absolutely no money.” 

His face fell. “I hoped I would not have to 
reveal to you the extreme limits of his obsession,” 
he said with evident embarrassment, “but Uncle 
Jasper made me take my oath on his moth-eaten 
old Bible that I wouldn’t give or loan you money. 
And, somehow, I have scruples against making 
mental reservations with my hand on the Good 
Book.” 


66 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

She flushed with embarrassment, hut suddenly 
recovered herself. There was Dennis. 

‘‘I^m sorry I embarrassed you,’’ she said. 
‘‘I’m afraid, then, I shall have to remain a day 
or two, but I will think about it and let you 
know. This is so sudden that I am not prepared 
to act immediately; but I will lose no time in 
making my plans. ’ ’ She smiled coolly, and turned 
to go. 

He followed her and spoke impatiently. “Do 
you really mean that you, a girl sheltered all her 
life as you have been, actually mean to leave this 
house and my protection, and throw yourself on 
the mercy of a pitiless world? You don’t know 
what lies outside sheltered walls for young and 
beautiful, and—penniless—girls.” 

“You forget,” she said, “that I served with 
the army in France.” Without further words she 
escaped from the room and ran lightly up the 
stairs to her own room. Once there, she found 
herself panting, not wholly with the exercise. 

“This is a situation that ought to make Mark 
Tapley mad with joy,” she told herself as she be¬ 
gan emptying bureau drawers and assorting 
things for packing. 

When she began to clear out her desk, she sat 
long before it, and fortified herself with reading 
letters signed “Wayne.” She pressed them to 
her lips, and to her cheeks—the sheets on which 
his dear hands had rested. 


BRIDE OR REFUGEE 67 

‘^Pray God he may come soon/’ she breathed. 
‘‘Dear, dear, strong heart, how I need you.” 

She took off her wrist watch, and pried open 
the back cover of the case. There he was. The 
service cap covered his forehead, but underneath 
were the keen eyes, the rather high-bridged nose, 
the firm mouth, about which the lines had prema¬ 
turely deepened. She knew how those lines could 
relax, and the sternness of the eyes give way when 
they looked into hers. She knew the touch of 
the rough, masculine face on her own smooth 
cheek; and, more than all, she recalled the feel¬ 
ing of security, of safety, his presence always in¬ 
spired. 

She closed the watch with a sigh at the sum¬ 
mons to luncheon. After all, it had been a short 
and pleasant morning. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 

W HEN Eleanor entered the dining-room, 
she found Dennis, with a radiant mien, 
surveying a dainty and bountiful lunch 
spread on the table, in the center of which was a 
bowl of glowing red roses. In the half-open swing 
door of the butler’s pantry she caught a glimpse 
of Ann’s unabashed face watching to see the sur¬ 
prise and joy of Eleanor when she beheld the 
miracle. 

Dennis couldn’t wait for her to speak first. 
He was a little disappointed that she did not 
eagerly seize the bunch of dewy violets which 
lay beside her plate and bury her nose in their 
fragrant depths and say: ‘ ^ How perfectly lovely! ’ ’ 
as somehow he thought all girls did on such occa¬ 
sions. 

’Tis better times we’re seeing ahead of us, 

Miss Eleanor, praise be to God for that same,” 

he said, as he pulled out her chair. 

At first the thought of eating the dainty but 

bountiful food spread before her for which she 

was indebted to Charles was repugnant to her, 

and she almost decided to leave it untouched; but 

68 




A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 


69 


she could not explain her reason to Dennis, so 
with a philosophical, ‘‘Take the good the gods 
provide thee,’’ she ate with a relish the first 
really satisfying meal she had ever had in her 
uncle’s house. 

When she had finished, she rose from the table 
and stood for a moment before her father’s por¬ 
trait. Turning abruptly away, she spoke to Den¬ 
nis, who was watching her. 

“Dennis,” she said, “I must leave this house 
at once—to-day, and I am going to ask you to' 
lend me some money for a short time.” 

Dennis’s round, rubicund face expressed so 
many emotions all at once it was hard to tell 
which predominated. 

“Leave the house, is it!” he exclaimed. “Just 
when everything is coming your way. ’Twas only 
this morning Mr. Charles gave me orders to pro¬ 
vide everything for your comfort and conveni¬ 
ence. ‘Spare no expense,’ says he. ‘Do you un¬ 
derstand!’ ‘I do,’ I says that way back to him. 
And now you’re talkin’ of leavin’.” 

Eleanor now took her turn at astonishment. 
“He told you that! When did he tell you that!” 

“Just after he was talkin’ with you in the 
drawin’-room it was.” 

She turned this surprising bit of information 
over in her mind a moment; then firmly deter¬ 
mined to carry out her original intention and 
leave the house before the day was over. 



70 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^‘Nevertheless, I am leaving this afternoon,’’ 
she said. “I’m afraid I shall have to ask you 
to loan me some money for a little time,” she 
faltered. “Fifty dollars—or twenty-five—or—or 
less,” she concluded, the color rising in her cheeks 
at something which was expressing itself in Den¬ 
nis ’s dismayed countenance. 

He put his hands in his trousers pockets and, 
seizing the lining, turned them inside out. A few 
pieces of silver and some coppers tumbled out on 
the cloth. 

“ ’Tis God’s truth. Miss Eleanor,” he cried 
with dismay, “ ’tis all the money I’ll be after 
havin’ till come pay-day which same is a week 
off. Ann and I are buying a little house for 
ourselves in the suburbs, and we took every dol¬ 
lar we have in the bank to make a payment on it. ’ ’ 

He looked ruefully at the coins, and apologeti¬ 
cally at Eleanor. 

“ ’Tis hopin’ I am that you’ll not be thinkin’ 
that it was because of what Mr. Charles said to 
me I’d be withholdin’ the money from you,” he 
continued anxiously, stirred by the expression on 
her face. 

“What do you mean by that?” she questioned 
quickly, striving to fortify herself for some new 
disaster. 

“ ’Tis his exact words I’ll be tellin’ you,” he 
burst forth, “and with your permission I’ll call 
Ann to see that I get them straight.” 


A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 


71 


She nodded. He had not far to go to find Ann, 
for she was still hovering about the crack of the 
door of the butler ^s pantry. She came in in her 
positive way, not forgetting, however, the correct 
demeanor of a servant, which hint she managed 
to convey subtly to Dennis. 

Kerens Ann, miss,’’ he announced formally. 

‘^You have something to tell me, which you 
wish Ann to hear, I understand,” Eleanor said;, 
looking from one to the other. ‘‘Go on.” 

“Mr. Charles said to me, and Ann here heard 
him, he says: ‘Dennis, my uncle has not made 
Miss Eleanor very happy in this house, and she 
has taken a foolish notion in her head to go out 
and make a livin’ for herself. Now, we can’t 
have this happen while Uncle Jasper is away. 
’Twould hurt his pride to have a niece of his 
goin’ out as a housemaid or a stenographer or 
earnin’ her livin’ in any way, shape, or manner, 
for he’s really very fond of her in his queer way,’ 
says he. ‘Now, he would disinherit us all—^for 
you know he’s leavin’ you and Ann enough in his 
will to make you rich all your days—if we per¬ 
mitted it,’ he says. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘she’s just 
after askin’ me for money to carry out her foolish 
intention, and it broke me all up to refuse her, 
for she’s a sweet, gentle lady and an honor to 
our name,’ says he. ‘Moreover,’ says he, ‘I mean 
to marry her and I want her to have everything 
that money can buy, but no money. No money/ 


72 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


says he, and his eyes blazin’ through his glasses. 
^Do you understand what the consequences will be 
to yourself and Ann if you disobey my orders ? ’ 

H do,’ says I, dazed like. . 

‘Then hold up your right hand and swear it 
by the bones of the saints, of the Virgin Mary, 
or the pope’s toe if you like—^but swear it.’ 

“I held up my right hand, all bewildered like, 
and says ‘I do,’ and Ann, with her face red and 
her eyes lookin’ fierce as if she was holdin’ some¬ 
thing back, said ‘I do.’ And that is all, miss.” 

Eleanor experienced a momentary sinking of 
the heart. She made use of her ebbing fortitude 
to say; 

“Dennis, do you believe my uncle is fond of 
me!” 

“Beggin’ your pardon, I do not, miss.” 

“Do you believe it, Ann?” 

“Hut! ’Tis not me that believes it afther the 
way he’s treated you, and you his own flesh and 
blood,” snilfed Ann, forgetting her decorum in 
her rush of indignation. 

“Then you believe Mr. Charles was not telling 
the truth?” Again to Dennis. 

“Indeed, in my opinion, he hit the mark far 
wide of the truth, ’ ’ he said gravely. 

“And you, Ann? Do you think Mr. Charles 
was deliberately lying?” 

“Well,” admitted Ann, “of course ’twas lyin’ 


73 


A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 

in a way he was. But if you’re goin’ to marry 
a man you mustn’t harbor all his triflin’ mis¬ 
statements— You can think what you like; but 
you must pretend to him ’tis the livin’ truth you 
think it. ’Tis the only way to preserve peace 
in the family, and that every married woman 
knows.” She complacently regarded Eleanor, 
who had weakly dropped into a chair at the be¬ 
ginning of Dennis’s recital. 

‘‘The little divil!” indignantly rose to Dennis’s 
lips, hut for reasons of state had to stop there. 

Eleanor sprang to her feet. “Marry him! 
Marry that man! How can you conceive of it? 
I’ll never marry him, and I’ll never spend an¬ 
other night under his roof, if I have to lie in 
the street. And you, Dennis; you who knew my 
father”—-she glanced at the portrait before which 
Dennis had pronounced such solemn vows the eve¬ 
ning before—“and promised my mother—” She 
could not go on for fear of losing her self-con¬ 
trol and she must not do it. She realized that 
she must keep herself in hand. 

“And me, miss?” prompted Dennis gently. 

“Oh, I don’t blame you, Dennis,” she said, try¬ 
ing to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “An 
inheritance weighs heavily in the balance against 
a friendless girl.” 

“And what’s this you’re saying about the in¬ 
heritance, Miss Eleanor?” interposed Ann, plac- 



74 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


ing her hands on her hips, a gesture habitual 
with her when an aggressive campaign was con¬ 
templated. 

‘‘Only that because of the inheritance you both 
swore you wouldn’t help me get away from this 
house—oh, I don’t blame you—I don’t blame 
you,” she said. 

“Listen to the girl, then,” exclaimed Ann. 
“And when did we ever swear to the likes of 
that, I’d like to know?” 

“You swore you wouldn’t give me any money, 
and that is the equivalent,” retorted Eleanor. 

Ann laughed. 

“Alanna, then, ’tis the servants have better 
ears than the mistress. When I saw Dennis here 
raise his hand at Mr. Charles’s biddin’ I was 
ready to call out, ‘May the han’ be paralyzed 
that raises itself against Miss Eleanor.’ But 
when I heard Mr. Charles say, ‘Do swear you 
realize the consequences to yourself and Ann,’ 
why sure what was the harm of swearin’ to that? 
How could we help realizin’ the consequences 
when he had just informed us?” 

“Do you mean, you are really willing to for¬ 
feit your inheritance for me?” asked Eleanor. 

‘ ‘ Sure we are, ’ ’ replied Ann equably. ‘ ‘ What’s 
the good of money that brings only worry to your 
mind? And there’d be sure to be a curse on it 
anyway,” she added. 

“And then again,” said Dennis simply, “ ’tis 


A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 75 

no choice we have in the matter, for who is there 
to look after you, barrin’ Ann and me?’’ 

And then the flood of tears came. Eleanor 
dropped her head on her folded arms on the table 
and sobbed aloud. Ann put her arms around the 
lonely girl and made no attempt to restrain her 
own tears. Dennis, ashamed to indulge in such 
weakness, snatched a tray from the serving table, 
and retreated to the butler’s pantry, where no one 
can say how he expressed his emotion. 

After a time the torrent of tears subsided and 
Eleanor went to her room and bathed her swollen 
eyes. Then she realized she had not asked Dennis 
to bring her trunk to her room. But to what pur¬ 
pose was it to pack her trunk when there was no 
place to send it? She resolved that she would 
not lose control of herself again; but soon found 
it impossible to carry out her resolution if she 
remained alone. She decided to go to the kitchen 
and stay with Ann. She jumped nervously at 
a long shadow that fell across the corridor out¬ 
side her door. She was trembling with vague 
terror when she passed old Jasper’s menacing 
door, and she ran panic-stricken down the stairs, 
not stopping until she fairly bounced in upon the 
startled Ann. 

‘‘For the love of God, what’s on you, child?” 
exclaimed Ann. 

Eleanor laughed nervously. 

“Just nothing. Nothing at all, Ann. I’m a 


76 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

coward and I’m going to stay with you. I can’t 
stand it another minute by myself. I feel as if 
there were a huge black cloud settling down on _ 
me and soon it’ll be so dark I can’t find my way 
out of it. Please let me stay with you. I’ll help 
you.” She looked around the bright and sunny 
kitchen—the only bright spot in the whole great 
house. 

‘ ‘ Of course you can stay with me, and welcome, 
child. Take the cloth out of my hand and wipe 
the silver,” said Ann, realizing the healing effect 
of occupation, ‘‘and when we have the dishes 
done we’ll go up to the room above that Dennis 
and I do be callin’ our sittin’ room. I believe 
you’ve never seen this part of the house.” 

Eleanor acknowledged that she never had seen 
it, but would love to go up and spend the after¬ 
noon there. When the work was finished she 
followed Ann up a back staircase that led to the 
servants’ rooms. At the end of the narrow cor¬ 
ridor nearest the staircase was a small unused, 
but comfortably furnished servants’ bedroom. 
Turning to the left, the corridor led to two other 
communicating rooms which were used by Dennis 
and Ann, the one as a bedroom and the larger 
one for a commodious sitting room. Beyond was 
another small furnished servants’ bedroom, and 
across the hall were two long narrow closets. At 
the extreme end of the hall a door led into the 
front part of the house. This door was locked 


A FINANCIAL DIFFICULTY 


77 


and bolted from the front and had not been used 
for many years, Ann believed. ‘‘Indeed, I mis¬ 
doubt me if it could be opened now, it must be 
that rusty, and moresomeover I don’t believe the 
key could be found, for I have never seen the 
like since I came to the house. Just beyond this 
door, on the other side of the partition, is the 
master’s bedroom. Many’s the time I’ve said 
to Dennis ’tis a wonder he wouldn’t open it and 
not keep Dennis runnin’ down one flight and up 
another and then back again every time he wants 
something.” 

Eleanor tried the door. It was indeed locked, 
but it did not impress her as being as rusted as 
Ann had declared. She observed that there was 
no bolt on the servants’ side, an omission which 
did not seeha to disturb the placid couple whose 
domain lay at the mercy of the occupants of the 
rooms beyond. The significance that Eleanor at¬ 
tached to it, she attributed to her unaccountable 
^ nervous state; but she did, nevertheless, allow it 
to occupy her mind from time to time during the 
rest of the day. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE TRAGEDY 

HE relief that Eleanor gained by her visit 
to the servants’ quarters was only tempo¬ 
rary, for in the background of her mind lay 
the urge to pack her trunk and leave the house. 
Consequently when Dennis was free, they all re¬ 
paired to Eleanor’s room, whither he brought the 
trunk and Ann packed it, Eleanor assisting. 

Dennis was kneeling on the lid to make the lock 
close, when a Louis Quatorze clock on the mantel 
struck five. At the same moment the doorbell 
pealed violently. They heard the front door 
open, followed by the sound of Mr. Charles’ voice 
in excited tones calling; ‘ ‘ Dennis, Dennis! ’ ’ 

‘‘Let me go, Dennis,” said Eleanor, her color 
receding, but instinctively rising to meet an emer¬ 
gency. “He must not know you are with me. 
I’ll take him to the drawing-room and you and 
Ann slip away.” 

She ran down to meet him. 

“Why, Charles,” she exclaimed, “what has 
happened?” She was startled by his pallor and 
his extreme agitation. 

He followed her to the rear of the drawing- 

78 



THE TRAGEDY 


79 


room, whither she had adroitly led him. He was 
very pale. In his shaking hands he was holding 
an evening edition of a newspaper. But he was 
not too agitated to detect the furtive steps of the 
fleeing servants on the staircase. 

He stepped quickly to the door and met the 
offenders face to face, but did not appear to per¬ 
ceive anything clandestine in their movements. 

^‘Dennis and Ann,^’ he said excitedly, ^‘come 
here. I want you to listen to this.” He struck 
the newspaper with the back of his hand, hut 
appeared too agitated to read the paragraph. 

‘‘Yes, sir,” said Ann, always the first to find 
her composure and the last to lose it. 

“My God!” he said, raising the paper and 
staring at it. He passed his hand across his fore¬ 
head as if wiping away the sweat of agony. “To 
think this could happen to poor Uncle Jasper. 
I shall never forgive myself for letting him go 
alone. But he never told me he was going to a 
place like that!” He seemed to have forgotten 
his audience in the sharpness of his own grief. 

They, in the meantime, were waiting expec¬ 
tantly, apprehensively, for the revelation of the 
news which had stirred him so profoundly. Elea¬ 
nor leaned for support on the back of a heavily 
upholstered chair; Dennis stood at respectful at¬ 
tention ; and Ann supported herself on two sturdy 
feet and fixed her intelligent blue eyes keenly on 
the central figure of the little drama. 


80 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

When the suspense became a bit too prolonged 
to satisfy her sense of the dramatic proprieties 
she burst forth: 

‘^For the love of God, what’s on you, Mr. 
Charles, that you don’t split your lips with what 
you have to say? Is it that something has hap¬ 
pened to Mr. Bowen? An’ if so, why in the name 
of goodness don’t you be after tellin’ Miss Elea¬ 
nor and she standin’ there waitin’ to know what- 
somever it is ? ” 

Thus admonished, he pulled himself together 
with a start and murmured: 

‘^True, Ann, true. To tell the truth, this trag¬ 
edy has nearly unmanned me. I heard the news¬ 
boys calling out the edition in the street and I 
just casually bought a copy. The first thing my 
eye fell upon was this.” He choked with emotion 
and Eleanor gently took the paper from his hand, 
whereupon he fell into a chair and, resting his 
elbows on the arms, covered his face with his 
hands. 

Eleanor read: 

^Tragic Death of a Mysterious Stranger. 

‘The town of Smithville was shocked this 
afternoon to learn of the tragic death of a mys¬ 
terious stranger who came to the junction on the 
east-bound express yesterday afternoon and en¬ 
gaged a taxicab to take him to Globe Hollow. His 
eccentric dress, his advanced age, and his insist¬ 
ence on spending the night in so unlikely a place, 


THE TRAGEDY 


81 


together with the fact that he was supplied with 
an abundance of money, convinced the driver of 
the cab that he had escaped from some asylum 
for the insane. Against his better judgment the 
driver left him at Globe Hollow after promising 
to return to-day with supplies for which the sin¬ 
gular old gentleman liberally advanced payment. 

^When the driver reached Globe Hollow to¬ 
day with the promised supplies, he found the 
cabin burned to the ground and the charred re¬ 
mains of his passenger in the ashes.’ ” 

A deep groan from Charles and a horrified 
exclamation from Eleanor interrupted the read¬ 
ing. Dennis struck his palms together and held 
them with tightly interlocked fingers. 

‘‘For the love of God!” said Ann. 

In a hushed voice Eleanor continued; 

“ ‘The insane asylums, far and near, are being 
notified in the hopes that the identity of the un¬ 
fortunate stranger may be established. He wore 
a peculiarly cut cape and a sort of Quaker or 
Puritan hat much too large for his head. He 
displayed to the driver a huge roll of bills appar¬ 
ently of large denominations which he claimed 
contained ten thousand dollars. His mania 
seemed to be “a bothersome niece.” ’ ” 

‘ ‘ Humph! ’ ’ snorted Ann. 

Eleanor continued as if fascinated: 

“ ‘It is believed that he escaped from his at¬ 
tendants some time yesterday, that he must have 


82 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


been previously acquainted with Globe Hollow, 
and selected that place as the least likely spot 
to be searched for him; that he sought shelter 
in the cabin during the night, built a fire for 
warmth and fell asleep. The dry wood of the 
cabin, in all probability, caught fire, and before 
the infirm old man could make his escape he was 
caught in the flames and perished.’ ” 

The paper dropped from Eleanor’s quivering 
fingers to the floor. She forgot her uncle’s harsh¬ 
ness in her vivid grief for the manner of his 
end. She visualized his feeble attempts to com¬ 
bat the flames that overtook him, and she shud¬ 
dered in horror. 

Ann’s voice broke in: ‘‘For the love of God, 
whatever did he go to a place like that for with 
no one to look after him and him that feeble 
that he’s not left his room for the past six weeks 
and more? What druv him to it, I’d like to know? 
And if he had no other troubles than a bother¬ 
some niece, then, to drive him from home, then 
what happened to him was good enough for him. 
I’ll be sayin’ that shouldn’t.” 

‘ ‘ Ann! ’ ’ reproved Dennis, sharply. ‘ ‘ Sure ’tis 
no call you have to be judgin’ others. Mr. Bowen 
had his own reasons for goin’, and if they was 
unworthy ones then ’twas the judgment of God 
overtook him, and ’tis yourself might leave it 
at that.” 

“Leave it at that, says you, and the newspapers 


THE TRAGEDY 


83 


soon’ll be flauntin’ Miss Eleanor’s name to the 
four winds of heaven and ’tis all you care,” hotly 
retorted Ann. 

Dennis, shocked at Ann’s boldness in the pres¬ 
ence of Mr. Charles, opened his mouth to re¬ 
prove her again, when Mr. Charles, in a subdued 
and gentle tone, interposed. 

‘ ‘ Let her alone, Dennis. It shows what a loyal 
soul she is to think of Miss Eleanor first—and not 
give a thought to her inheritance. I thank you, 
Ann, I shall not forget it. You may go, now,” 
he said, rising with regained composure. 

‘‘And now, Eleanor,” he said in the same gentle 
tones after they had acted upon his dismissal, 
‘ ‘ our poor uncle with all his faults has been gath¬ 
ered to his fathers, which changes your status 
here. Promise me that you will not think of 
leaving until after the will is read. The honor 
of the family requires it, and surely you cannot 
hold a grudge against the dead.” 

“No, I hold no ill will towards Uncle Jasper, 
but what is to be gained by my staying?” she 
asked in a toneless voice. 

“I can’t stay to explain, now, for I must get 
up to Smithville as quickly as I can and identify 
the victim of this terrible tragedy. I’m satisfied 
it can be no other than Uncle Jasper. I shall 
go to-night.” He drew out a thin gold watch 
and glanced at the dial. “I shall come back some 
time to-morrow and bring back the remains. You 


84 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

would be of great service to me, Eleanor, to be 
here with the house opened to receive any friends 
he may have.’’ 

“Of course, I’ll stay,” she said, simply, think¬ 
ing of the irony of the miser’s return. 

“Thank you,” he said warmly. “I knew I 
could depend on you, and I promise you there are 
happier days ahead for you.” 

He held out his hand with a subdued smile, 
and it took all her resolution to stretch out hers 
to meet it. When her fingers touched his palm 
they were cold and limp. He bit his lips, dropped 
her hand, and without another word strode away. 

When the door closed behind him all her appre¬ 
hensions of danger returned. She fled to the 
kitchen again. 

Dennis was reproving Ann for her indiscreet 
championship of Miss Eleanor, and Ann acknowl¬ 
edged for the first time in his memory that she 
was in the wrong. “ ’Tis a blunderin’ fool I am 
and her not wantin’ him to know we’re befriendin’ 
her,” she lamented. 

Eleanor poured oil on the troubled waters, and 
then firmly announced that she would not spend 
another night in her own room. She was going 
to occupy one of the little rooms near them. They 
heartily approved of this decision, and Ann hast¬ 
ily collected fresh linen and together they put the 
little room in order. 

Dennis served Eleanor’s dinner as usual in the 


THE TRAGEDY 


85 


dining-room; the eyeai of the portrait beamed 
approval of this move, and some of the oppres¬ 
sion of the day was lifted. When the duties were 
all finished and the house fastened up for the 
night, they all went up to Ann’s sitting room. 
It was a cheerful room with fresh muslin cur¬ 
tains at the windows, the old frames of which 
were concealed by hangings of bright cretonne. 
There was a center table on which was a drop 
light with a shade made by Ann’s skillful hands 
from the same kind of material as that at the 
windows. Soft cushions covered with the same 
cheerful material were heaped on an ancient but 
extremely comfortable sofa which had descended 
by gradual stages from its place of honor in the 
drawing-room to its present position. A Frank¬ 
lin stove with shining brass fenders contained a 
glowing fire, for the evenings were growing 
chilly. 

Drawn up where the light fell favorably upon 
it was a square felt-covered card table flanked 
on opposite sides by a comfortable chair. A well- 
worn pack of cards between them gave mute evi¬ 
dence that Dennis and Ann were wont to engage 
in a game of Forty-five before going to bed. 

Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears at the homely 
domesticity of the room, speaking of the con¬ 
genial companionship and mutual trust and love 
of its occupants, the only room in the great house 
thus hallowed. 


86 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


She insisted that they should play their usual 
game, and they, loyal souls, knew intuitively that 
she would be more at her ease if left to her own 
thoughts. So while they played their usual game 
she lay among the comfortable cushions of the 
sofa and winked back her tears while she longed 
for the home-coming of Wayne Merriman. 
Would the army of occupation ever be with¬ 
drawn! Her thoughts went back to France and 
reconstructed the story of her love. How she 
had met Colonel Merriman in an amusement hut 
where she had danced and danced and danced 
with the boys hungry for the companionship of 
a girl from home until she was ready to drop 
and the gray-eyed, tired-looking young colonel had 
come to her rescue and sat out a dance with her. 
They had talked of home and of each other, and 
then they met the next day and yet again in a 
simple way, and when they parted he held her 
hand a long time and said with a look in his 
eyes which expressed far more than his words: 

“I have been refreshed in a wonderful way 
this time back in the billets, may I thank you ? ’ ’ 

He still held her hand and looked as though 
he would like to take the tired girl to his breast. 

And she looked back at him and longed for 
the clear-eyed, strong-limbed, and fine-featured 
young officer to carry out his desires. He did 
not do it then, but she smiled to herself and felt 


THE TRAGEDY 


87 


the warm color coming back to her pale face at 
the recollection of the time when he did so and 
the many times thereafter. And then the Armis¬ 
tice came and he was ordered to the Rhine. She 
stayed in Paris and they were to have been mar¬ 
ried there on his next leave. Then the cable came 
calling her home, the death of her mother fol¬ 
lowed and she was thrown temporarily on the cold 
hospitality of Uncle Jasper. 

The thought of Uncle Jasper brought her sud¬ 
denly out of her reverie and she became aware 
that the game was over, and by certain signs 
of Dennis guessed that it was their bedtime. 

She sprang to her feet. 

‘‘I’ve had such a beautiful evening,” she said. 
“Why didn’t I think of this before instead of 
staying all by myself those long, dreary, desolate 
evenings? Ann, you dear, I’m never going to 
leave you.” She threw her arms around the de¬ 
lighted Ann and kissed her heartily. 

“And as for you, Dennis,” with a quick move¬ 
ment she placed her soft pink palms against his 
shaven cheeks, and as light as a thistledown fell 
a swift kiss on his forehead, and then she whisked 
away, laughing at Dennis’s pleased embarrass¬ 
ment. 

When she stretched her limbs between the fresh 
linen sheets of her narrow and long-unused bed, 
she experienced a delicious sense of security to 


88 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


which she had long been a stranger and she 
dropped almost immediately into sweet, refresh¬ 
ing slnmber. 

It seemed to her that she had scarcely closed 
her eyes when she found herself startlingly wide 
awake. In truth she had been sleeping since nine 
o’clock, and it was now on the stroke of midnight. 
Without waiting an instant to analyze the cause 
of her alarm she sprang from her bed, opened 
her door noiselessly and slipped swiftly into the 
hall. Cautiously she opened the door of the sit¬ 
ting room, and, when once safely inside, she as 
cautiously turned the key. Her heart was beat¬ 
ing wildly, but as yet she had not consciously 
heard a sound. She wouldn’t disturb the sleepers 
in the next room, but it comforted her to be near 
them. 

Then on the last stroke of twelve there arose 
a strange mysterious whisper. It floated in 
through the open transom and played about the 
ceiling. It awakened Ann and Dennis, and then 
she knew that it was that sound that had prob¬ 
ably awakened her. She stepped back to the sit¬ 
ting room, and clasping her white silk dressing 
gown around her shivering body waited with 
blanched cheeks. 

Presently it came again, indistinct and untrace- 
able at first, and then it gradually resolved itself 
into something familiar. It began at the foot 
of the staircase, rose to the narrow hall and trav- 


THE TRAGEDY 


89 


ersed its length beating itself as it were against 
the door beyond which was the corridor leading 
to old Jasper’s bedroom. It came over the tran¬ 
som, the husky, malicious, mocking, sinister 
laughter of Uncle Jasper. 

Ann, with one wild leap, sprang back into bed 
and thrust her head under an avalanche of bed¬ 
clothes. Dennis remained paralyzed where he 
stood; and Eleanor, her lithe form swaying gently 
from side to side, sarik to the floor in a dead faint. 








CHAPTER X 


OUTWITTING THE GHOST 

T he long night of terror was over at last. 
Daybreak came, and with the first premon¬ 
itory ray of the approaching sun Ann 
ceased praying, assured then that the ghost was 
laid for the time being at any rate. 

For all they knew to the contrary, old Jasper 
had returned to his charnel house many hours 
before cock crow; for after that one prolonged, 
malevolent, menacing outbreak, the phantom 
laughter did not return. 

Eleanor had not returned to her little bed¬ 
room again, but spent the remainder of the night 
wide awake on the old sofa. They had kept the 
light burning and the bedroom door open between 
them, but nothing but their apprehensions kept 
them from sleeping. 

With daylight, however, Eleanor resolved to 
take herself well in hand, and not give way to 
superstitious fears again. She went down to the 
kitchen with Ann and inisted on breakfasting with 
her and Dennis in the servants’ dining-room. At 
the breakfast table they discussed the subject 
which occupied their minds to the exclusion of 
everything else. And as usually happens in post- 

90 


OUTWITTING THE GHOST 91 

humous testimony offered by several witnesses 
to the same event, they differed in their versions. 
Eleanor thought the sound began at the foot of 
the staircase and traveled towards the corridor 
door. Ann thought it traveled in the opposite 
direction; and Dennis spoke of it as coming from 
everywhere at once, and ending in a long, despair¬ 
ing wail like a lost soul in torment. 

‘‘ ^Tis not that I like to be always contra- 
dictinV’ said Ann, sparingly buttering a hot 
waffle, ^^but Twas no lost soul in torment at all; 
but a triumphant devil it was with full power 
to destroy us if we donT take the necessary pre¬ 
cautions to circumvent it.^’ Ann frequently had 
to depend on words of many syllables to floor 
Dennis in an argument. 

‘‘And how would you be after knowin’ what 
kind of a devil it was, you with your head buried 
under the bed clothes?’’ retorted Dennis, surrep¬ 
titiously putting another lump in his coffee. 

“Miss Eleanor knows and she’ll tell you I’m 
speakin’ nothing but God’s truth,” persisted Ann. 

“Beggin’ her pardon, but how could she be 
after knowin’ and she lyin’ there on the floor 
like a corpse herself?” 

Dennis was getting the better of the argument 
when Eleanor interposed. 

“Now, listen to me, both of you,” she said 
firmly. “I admit' I was frightened out of my 
senses last night and I’m heartily ashamed of it 


92 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


this morning. What would my father say if he 
saw his daughter fainting away and going to 
pieces over a silly noise that somebody, for some 
reason, is trying to scare us with? First of all, 
we must keep saying over and over to ourselves, 
^There are no ghosts.’ ” 

Dennis’s expression caused her to stop and 
scan his features. 

‘^Well? What are you thinking of?” she de¬ 
manded. 

’Tis not becomin’ in me to differ with you, 
miss,” he replied apologetically, ‘‘but what’s the 
good of sayin’ over and over there are no ghosts 
when ’tis well we know there are ghosts?” 

“How do you know there are ghosts? You 
never saw one, did you?” she pressed, determined 
to allay the superstitious fears in his mind as a 
preliminary to some decisive action she was con¬ 
vinced they must take. 

“Praise be to God, I never did. But my grand¬ 
father saw the ghost of old Finnegan—^he that 
turned his daughter out to perish on the wild 
moor—wan night when he was passin’ Ballyhack 
graveyard with Father O’Flaherty on his way to 
give the last rites to Felix McHagg, him that had 
his skull cracked at Donnybrook fair by the shil- 
lalah of Terrence Dooly him that—” 

“For the love of God, Dennis,” interrupted 
Ann, “are you givin’ us a discoorse on the man¬ 
ners of them that have the good fortune to be 


OUTWITTING THE GHOST 93 

born outside of Ulster? Mind the coffee you’re 
spatterin’ on the tablecloth,—an’ you wavin’ 
your spoon in the air like you had no manners 
yerself,” 

Eleanor laughed. It was plain that they, with 
true Irish optimism, were applying the philoso¬ 
phy ‘^sufficient unto the day—or night—is the 
ghost thereof,” and that however they might re¬ 
act to another night visitation, they could be de¬ 
pended on through the daylight hours. 

“Tell me this, Dennis,” she said. “Can ghosts 
pass through locked and bolted doors?” 

“Sure they can, miss,” declared Dennis em¬ 
phatically. “There was the one in Galloway.” 
From the tail of his eye he caught sight of Ann 
preparing to put her arms akimbo—a gesture he 
particularly disliked in her, and he lamely con¬ 
cluded. 

“Why, yes, of course they can. What’d be 
the good of their bein’ ghosts if they couldn’t?” 

“Well, then, if we have to spend another night 
here, and it looks very much as if we should, you 
think we might as well leave all the doors wide 
open, and not lock or bolt them?” 

Dennis shook his head doubtfully. “Well, I 
wouldn’t exactly say that. It might look as if 
we were defyin’ them to do that. ’Tis best to 
treat them with all due respect; and locks and 
bolts would be the surest way to convince them 
that they’ve nothin’ to fear from us.” 


94 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

Eleanor suppressed her amusement and said 
gravely: 

“I quite agree with you; so let us get busy 
and bolt every door leading into this part of the 
house. Put one on the kitchen side of every door 
leading into it. Another on the door at the foot 
of the stairs. Lock and bolt this dining-room. 
Put one inside your sitting room. I shall sleep 
there on the sofa. Put one inside your bedroom 
—but don’t bolt me out. Keep it for an emer¬ 
gency. And, Dennis, be sure to put one on the 
corridor door near Uncle Jasper’s bedroom.” 

^‘There’s one already on the corridor door,” 
interposed Ann, ^‘and that rusty that no ghost 
new to the job could ever get next or nigh us 
that way.” 

‘Ht’s on the wrong side,” she said significantly, 
particularly want a strong bolt on this side.” 
have no bolts in the house. Miss Eleanor,” 
said Dennis suddenly. 

There are plenty on other doors where they 
are not needed. Remove them from any of the 
doors in the front, and we will barricade our 
quarters to the satisfaction of the most exacting 
ghost. Let’s get busy at once. Mr. Charles will 
be here, and who knows what may happen before 
the day is over.” 

Eleanor had risen from the table with return¬ 
ing color and with a renewed energy she was de- 


OUTWITTING THE GHOST 95 

termined to put to use. She accompanied Dennis 
while he removed bolts from the doors in the 
front part of the house, and stood by and held 
screws and bolts while he refitted them in the 
servants’ quarters. 

By lunch time she was hungry and cheerful and 
braced for coming events. 

About six o’clock Charles returned. He was 
very subdued in manner and he wore a broad 
band of black on his left arm. He had had a very 
trying day, he explained to Eleanor, for there 
was no doubt that the victim of the tragedy was 
Uncle Jasper. When he had seen the place called 
Globe Hollow, which was really no hollow at all 
—merely a slight depression on a bleak and lonely 
mountainside with a forest of pines behind it— 
he was indignant that anybody should leave the 
helpless old man there. And when he looked upon 
the ruined cabin and thought of Uncle Jasper 
perishing so frightfully there, it quite unmanned 
him. 

At this point of his tale he was unable to con¬ 
tinue for a moment. With an effort he controlled 
his emotion, and presently went on in a changed 
tone. He had, he said, had his suspicions aroused. 
It was incredible to him that Uncle Jasper had 
ever asked the driver, who seemed to be a very 
shifty fellow, to take him to that unlikely spot. 
He had made sharp inquiries at the junction, and 


96 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

the fellow admitted taking one hundred dollars 
for his services, claiming that his passenger 
otfered him the money without solicitation. 

‘‘Now, you and I know, Eleanor,’’ he said, 
‘ ‘ that Uncle Jasper was not the man to part with 
money like that. The other drivers at the junc¬ 
tion saw Uncle Jasper display a roll of bills to 
the driver before they started. Now, my opinion 
is that the sight of that roll aroused the cupidity 
of the driver. I happen to know that Uncle Jas¬ 
per took ten thousand dollars with him, and that 
is the sum the driver says his passenger claimed 
to have. I think he drove him to that remote spot 
and murdered him for the money, and then set 
fire to the cabin to conceal his crime. It is too 
dreadful to contemplate.” He sank back in his 
chair utterly overcome and placed his hand over 
his eyes. 

Eleanor had passed through so many exhaust¬ 
ing emotions that this revelation failed to move 
her as it did him. She waited silently for him 
to recover himself. 

“I have done all I could to avenge this atro¬ 
cious murder,” he continued presently. “I have 
informed the police of my suspicions and have 
instigated the arrest of the guilty cab-driver. 
All that money can do to bring him to justice I 
shall cheerfully do. That much I owe to the man 
who, with all his faults, was deeply attached to 
me.” 


OUTWITTING THE GHOST 97 

‘^I have wondered why you let him go alone,” 
said Eleanor, singularly unmoved by his emotion. 

^‘He told me he was going to Sulphur Springs, 
and I knew he would be met there and shown 
every consideration. He took that large sum of 
money with him to insure every attention. You 
know his belief in the magic power of money,” 
explained Charles. 

^‘I don’t see why he changed his mind on the 
way, as he must have done, for Sulphur Springs 
is this side of Smithville Junction, isn’t it?” she 
questioned, skeptically. ‘ ‘ I thought Dennis bought 
his ticket, by your orders, for Smithville Junc¬ 
tion.” 

He rose to his feet. 

‘‘He probably became confused,—who can 
tell?” he replied with an air of not wishing to 
continue the conversation. 

“And you, Eleanor,” he said suddenly, turn¬ 
ing to look at her sharply. “Have you been all 
right? Nothing has happened to disturb you?” 

She looked him squarely in the eye. “Nothing 
not connected with Uncle Jasper,” she replied 
smoothly. “That is quite enough to disturb 
me.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s true enough. And the serv¬ 
ants? They are attending to their duties as 
usual? They are not fidgety or nervous over 
anything?” 

Eleanor always wondered what lay behind the 


98 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


amber glasses; what expression of the eyes might 
now possibly accompany these questions. 

‘‘Why, no, not unduly,^’ she replied evenly. 

After a moment ^s hesitation he changed the 
subject abruptly. 

“The coroner^s inquest was held up there,” he 
stated, “and I brought the body back with me, 
I had a simple service held at the undertaker's 
rooms, and ordered the interment to take place 
at once. I did this to spare you all unpleasant 
details. I hope that nothing distasteful to you 
will ever occur again. I shall make it the object 
of my life in future to atone for Uncle Jasper’s 
ill-treatment of you.” 

He paused to give her time to express her 
gratitude for his generous behavior, but it came 
a little slowly, and was expressed in a murmured 
word, “Thanks.” 

“At nine o’clock the will will be read,” he went 
on, “and I am in hopes that Uncle Jasper has 
been decent enough to remember you gener¬ 
ously. You will be free then to go where you 
please—although it will leave me desolate,” he 
added in a melancholy tone. 

“You do not, of course, expect me to be pres¬ 
ent at the reading of the will, ’ ’ she said, ignoring 
the last part of his speech. 

“Most certainly I do,” he emphatically assured 
her. “For all we know you may be the heir in¬ 
stead of me. And let me say now, Eleanor, I 



OUTWITTING THE GHOST 99 

devoutly hope it may be so. It means nothing 
to me without you.’’ 

He did not seem to expect a reply, hut took 
up his hat, which in his excitement he had worn 
into the drawing-room, and dejectedly passed out 
of the house. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE WILL IS BEAD 

A t nine o’clock, the hour appointed for the 
reading of Jasper Bowen’s will, the old 
library was illuminated to its utmost liiriited 
capacity. A reading lamp on the long table in 
the center of the room furnished a light for the 
lawyer. In the tarnished chandelier that hung 
suspended from the ceiling but one gas light ap¬ 
peared. Two of the globes had been broken 
years before and had never been replaced. Elec¬ 
tric lights had never been installed in the miser’s 
house. The sickly yellow flame fluttered uneasily 
and cast weird, shifting shadows over the little 
group assembled there. 

The lawyer, the same who so recently had 
drawn up the will in this same room and had 
met with such discourteous treatment, sat per¬ 
functorily by the table and waited. Charles, 
standing by the window, looked through his am¬ 
ber glasses across the room at Eleanor, whose 
face, above the black dress she had adopted for 
the occasion, appeared white and drawn. 

When Dennis and Ann came in, Charles mo- 

100 


( 


I ( < 


101 


THE WILL IS READ 

tioned them to seats on the chairs nearest the 
door, and signaled the lawyer to proceed with the 
business for which they had gathered. 

Eleanor listened abstractedly to the level, 
measured voice as it pronounced the usual pre¬ 
liminaries and formula of a will, and was scarcely 
interested when she learned that the whole es¬ 
tate went to Charles; but presently she heard 
her own name, and she flushed hotly at the super¬ 
lative malice which pursued her even from the 
grave. She learned that she was not only cut 
off from any inheritance, but the testator pro¬ 
vided that Charles should forfeit the whole estate 
if he provided for her ‘^in any way, shape, or 
manner.’’ It went on to provide that Charles 
should take possession of the house within one 
hour of the reading of the will, and that Eleanor’s 
presence in the house with Charles’s consent after 
the expiration of that time should be construed 
as contrary to the wishes of the testator and 
the inheritance forfeited: the property in that 
case to revert to the state. 

‘‘I hope the devil is roasting him on a gridiron 
this minute,” muttered the outraged Ann under 
her breath; while Dennis gripped the arms of 
his chair fiercely with both hands to keep him¬ 
self from flying at the lawyer and wresting the 
offensive document from his hands and rending 
it to bits. 

^‘Providing,” the monotonous voice went on. 


102 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

callous to the emotions it was exciting, ‘‘that 
nothing in this will shall be construed as obstruct¬ 
ing my nephew, Charles Bowen, in the choice of 
a wife. If that choice should fall upon my niece, 
Eleanor, he shall be free to endow her with any 
par+ or all of the estate, as he considers wise 
and desirable,’’ 

Eleanor’s body seemed to congeal, and she 
found herself shaking as with a chill. She had 
to shut her teeth hard to keep them from chat¬ 
tering. The sinister presence of the malevolent 
old man seemed to be all about her, crushing her 
young life out. She turned her eyes instinctively 
to her two humble friends, and the sight of their 
sturdy figures sitting stiffly in their chairs and 
casting glances at her, half of indignation and 
half of compassion, restored her to an outward 
composure. 

The lawyer had begun a new paragraph, and 
this related to the two servants. They heard that 
they were to remain in the service of Charles five 
more years, at the end of which time they were 
to receive a generous annuity. If, however, they 
left before that time without Charles’s permis¬ 
sion the inheritance would be automatically for¬ 
feited. 

Presently the lawyer’s voice ceased. He rose 
and refolded the document. If he sensed the 
emotions he had aroused he made no sign. He 
was about to take his leave when Eleanor stopped 


THE WILL IS READ 103 

him. She had risen to her feet, her face set and 
defiant. 

‘‘Mr. Thornton,she said, “I believe yoa are 
Mr. Thornton!” she questioned. 

The lawyer bowed in acknowledgment. 

“When did my uncle make that will!” she de¬ 
manded. 

His sphinx-like gaze fell upon her with more 
interest than was apparent in their inscrutable 
depths. This attractive young woman with de¬ 
fiant eyes and compelling voice was the disin¬ 
herited niece, then. Quite a different personality 
from the one he had imagined when he drew up 
the will for the vindictive old sinner. He glanced 
from her to Charles, who started forward as if 
to interpose. 

“Yesterday,” he replied, his eyes seeking hers 
again. 

“Were you here in the house yesterday!” she 
asked in some surprise. 

“Yes, I was here in the morning,” he replied 
laconically, but courteously. He studied her in¬ 
tently, trying to fathom a motive for the malig¬ 
nant cruelty evidenced toward her in the will. 

A skeptical expression flitted over her face. 
In the confusion of events following closely on 
the making of the will the previous day Dennis 
had forgotten to tell her of that episode. 

“In my uncle’s room,” she demanded. 

“No, I drew up the will in this room. Mr. 


104 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Bowen received me here.’’ Surely this was a fine 
specimen of womanhood. What had caused her 
uncle’s aversion, he wondered. 

‘^But my uncle was quite unable to leave his 
room yesterday—has been confined to his bed for 
some time. We have been daily expecting that 
the frail thread holding him to life would snap 
any moment.” Her eyes turned to Dennis, who 
nodded emphatically. 

^^You forget, Eleanor,” interposed Charles 
gently, ‘Hhat he went away alone on this unfor¬ 
tunate journey. I have suspected for some time,” 
he added, speaking to the lawyer now, ‘‘that Uncle 
Jasper was not so feeble as he would have us 
think. I can’t account for his reason for it, un¬ 
less to test my devotion to him. I have never 
known him well. In fact I had never seen him 
since I was grown up, but his treatment of me 
since my return has certainly won my undying 
affection.” His lips trembled a little with the 
emotion of this last thought. 

Eleanor kept her eyes on the lawyer’s face 
during this interruption, and she fancied she read 
symptoms of disapprobation of the speaker. 

“And you drew up that will?” she asked scorn¬ 
fully, ignoring Charles’s interruption. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” he admitted, and if she 
read the signs right he regretted it. 

She was puzzled, but not satisfied. She con¬ 
tracted her brows for a moment, and then with 


THE WILL IS READ 105 

an abrupt ‘'Thank you’^ she moved swiftly to¬ 
ward the door. 

Charles as swiftly followed her. 

“Eleanor/’ he said, “what are you going to 
do?” 

“I’m going to put on my hat,” she answered 
coldly, continuing on her way. 

He caught her arm and detained her. “You 
will do nothing of the kind,” he said, sharply. 
“I ask you now, before witnesses, to be my wife. 
You are the woman I choose, and as such you 
are entitled to remain here. I command you,” 
he said in ringing tones, as he felt her moving 
away from him. 

She paused and looked at him with contemptu¬ 
ous eyes. “You talk like a top-sergeant,” she 
said with withering scorn. 

For the life of her she could no longer conceal 
the suspicion, the distrust of him she had so long 
held in leash. Contempt blazed in her eyes and 
betrayed itself in the poise of her dark head on 
the slender neck. 

He recoiled as from a blow, and withdrew his 
delaying hand. An expression not good to see 
crossed his face for the duration of a lightning 
flash. Then he recovered himself and bowed. 

“You wrong me, Eleanor,” he said sadly. 

Without deigning to glance at him again, she 
swept out of the room. Dennis and Ann prepared 
to follow her. 


106 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^‘DennisHis voice had the sharpness of a 
two-edged sword. ‘‘Remain where you are.’’ 
Dennis and Ann became instantly rooted to the 
spot. 

“I will bid you good-night, Mr. Thornton,” he 
said coldly. “You are a witness that I have not 
played the selfish brute with my cousin.” 

“Good-night,” said the lawyer with uncon¬ 
cealed lack of cordiality. He took his departure, 
omitting congratulations to the new heir. 

Charles’s face was hot pleasant to see for a 
moment after the door closed on the lawyer. 
Presently he transfixed Dennis with a steady 
stare. Dennis had cause to congratulate himself 
that the amber glasses transfused some of the 
light of that piercing glance. 

“Dennis,” he finally said, “you have heard the 
provisions of the will. You have heard me otfer 
shelter and protection to Miss Eleanor. You have 
been a witness to her suspicion and ingratitude. 
I can do no more. She must leave this house 
within an hour. You and Ann will see that she 
takes what she pleases with her. Deny her noth¬ 
ing—^but when the door closes behind her you 
are neither of you to communicate with her again 
under any circumstances whatever. Do you un¬ 
derstand?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Dennis immovably. “Shall I 
call a taxi, sir!” 

“A taxi!” Charles hesitated a moment. “A 


THE WILL IS READ 107 

taxi! Yes, why notT’ There was a shadow of 
a smile around the corners of his mouth. 

Dennis shifted to the other foot. 

‘^Miss Eleanor has no money to pay the fare, 
sir. ’ ^ 

‘^Well, what do you propose to do about thatT^ 
inquired the affluent heir. 

thought you might, perhaps, advance the 
money, sir,’’ Dennis ventured. 

‘‘You heard the terms of the will,” said Charles 
sharply. “That taxi would cost me my whole 
inheritance, and you have seen for yourself that v 
Miss Eleanor would scarcely be grateful if I did 
pay the price.” 

Ann had exceeded her usual limit of forbear¬ 
ance in abstaining from taking a hand in affairs. 
Now she burst forth: 

“For the love of God, Mr. Charles, is it that 
Miss Eleanor is to go forth into the night alone, 
and her without money and no place to lay her 
precious head! Sure, you might let her stay here 
this night unbeknownst to yourself, and then 
where’s the harm to your inheritance!” 

Ann had beautiful eyes of true Irish blue with 
a little dark shadow about them which empha¬ 
sized their blueness. They were now fixed plead¬ 
ingly on Charles. 

“She may stay on my uncle’s terms,” he re¬ 
plied coldly. “I have no power to offer her any 
other. ’ ’ 


108 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Then a curse will be sure to fall on every 
penny you have, you mark my words, sir, even 
to the last copper laid on your cold, dead eyes,’’ 
she blurted forth. “Spare yourself that, Mr. 
Charles, for the love of God.” 

“Ann,” he said, “did it ever occur to you, by 
any chance, that you talk too much for the strict 
propriety of your position? If not, let me re¬ 
mind you now that when I want the advice of 
my servants I shall not be restrained by diffidence 
from letting them know. Now, I will inform you, 
not because it is your right, but because it is my 
will to tell you that your curse will rather fall 
on Miss Eleanor—a beautiful girl with charm 
enough to make any man willing to risk the elec¬ 
tric chair for—walking the city streets alone at 
night. One night of it will bring her back to me, 
if there is enough of her left to get back. So 
don’t worry about her. Run along now and get 
her away before I count a hundred. If she stays 
over the hour, I shall not have a shelter to offer 
her when she comes.” 

His voice was cold, cruel, and exultant, and 
the two horrified servants made haste to get away 
from his hateful presence. 

As they precipitately entered the hall they en¬ 
countered Eleanor. She was dressed in a smart 
tailored suit of brown duvetyne and a close-fitting 
hat of the same color. In her hand she carried 
a small patent-leather suit-case, and an umbrella 


THE WILL IS READ 


109 


neatly rolled in a silken case. She was bearing 
herself regally. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, 
her eyes shining, and every inch of her body ex¬ 
pressed self-possession and determined purpose. 
She appeared quite unconscious of the new heir 
who watched her from the threshold, whither he 
had followed the servants. Neither did she take 
any notice of the distressed couple who stood par¬ 
alyzed and helpless other than to say imperiously: 

‘‘Open the door, Dennis!’’ 

Dennis sprang to obey her, dismayed and dis¬ 
tressed at her apparent intention of not throwing 
a word or a look at her faithful friends. Did she 
consider them a part of the new regime and hence¬ 
forth not to count in her life, they wondered. Ann 
had scarcely grasped the situation before the door 
opened and she saw Miss Eleanor pass over the 
threshold carrying her chin well up, breast for¬ 
ward “like a queen goin’ to her coronation itself,” 
she expressed it afterward. 

Ann did not see the swift, meaning glance Elea¬ 
nor threw at Dennis as she passed him; but it 
assured him of her confidence, at the same time 
reminding him of the portrait with its warning 
message to “watch out.” 


CHAPTER Xn 


AN EAVESDROPPEE 

W HEN the inhospitable door of her uncle’s 
house—or rather the new heir’s house— 
closed behind her, Eleanor descended the 
flight of stone steps down which old Jasper had 
gone on his last journey, and, on reaching the 
street, turned to the right and walked briskly 
away. 

Across the street a sedan car picked up its 
motor and moved in the same direction. At the 
corner it stopped, and when Eleanor reached that 
point Lawyer Thornton was standing beside it. 
He raised his hat. 

wondered. Miss Bowen,” he said, ‘‘if this 
outrage could conceivably happen. May I ask 
where you are going?” 

She was still carrying the air of bravado which 

she had assumed for Charles’s benefit, but her 

heart was fluttering suffocatingly. She wished 

she had donned her army uniform; it would have 

been some protection. In her agitation she could 

not control herself to reply. 

“When I drew up that remarkable will,” he 

went on. “I did not realize you were a member 

of Mr. Bowen’s household. I think I sensed some- 

110 


AN EAVESDROPPER 


111 


thing of the situation to-night. I may be unduly 
apprehensive, but I feared that the suddenness 
of this news might have found you unprepared 
financially; and since the terms of the will forbade 
your receiving even a temporary loan from the 
heir, and it being after banking hours, I waited 
to see if I could be of any service to you. Can I 
do anything for you to-night? A temporary loan, 
perhaps ?’ ’ 

Still she could not find words to reply. 

‘^Can I take you to a hotel, or perhaps you 
would prefer to go to friends?’’ he urged gently. 

His manner was so different from the soulless 
automaton with whom she had just been speak¬ 
ing in her uncle’s house that she found her voice 
to say: 

thank you. For the present I have all I 
need.” 

Her words unconsciously to herself sounded 
coldly courteous. 

He hesitated for a moment. He had a dim sus¬ 
picion of the truth, and sensed the emptiness 
of the bravado. Then he drew a business card 
from his pocket. 

‘‘The firm of Thornton and Brownley are at 
your disposal,” he said, and, after another mo¬ 
ment of hesitation, he added a visiting card which 
he happened to have with him—“Mr. and Mrs. 
Randolph Thornton”—with the residence address 
added. Surely this proud girl needed friends 


112 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

desperately. He himself was growing more and 
more indignant at the severity and cruel malig¬ 
nity of the will. 

‘Hf you need friends,” he said gently, ‘‘won’t 
you do Mrs. Thornton and myself the favor of 
coming to us?” 

She made no response, and after an interval 
of waiting which he felt he could not in decency 
prolong, he lifted his hat gravely and said: 

“Good night. Miss Bowen. Think it over and 
don’t forget.” 

. Eleanor watched the car disappear and imme¬ 
diately regretted her repellent manner. She 
might—nay, she knew—she would need friends 
desperately, and she had estranged the first and 
perhaps the only person who was in a position to 
advise her. She made an involuntary move as 
if to overtake the car and apologize for her rude¬ 
ness; but it had passed out of sight. 

She mechanically placed the card in her hand¬ 
bag and walked straight ahead for some time. 
Then she crossed the street and turned back in 
the direction from which she had come. She had 
an uneasy sense of being followed, due to nerves, 
she believed. Nevertheless, the feeling was so 
persistent that she did not stop when she came 
opposite the house from which she had been 
ejected, but walked on. There was no one visible 
when she reached the house again. She could 
see no light in the library, and all the front of 


AN EAVESDROPPER 


113 


the house was in darkness. Charles had prob¬ 
ably assumed residence already and had retired 
to revel in pleasant dreams of his new posses¬ 
sions. Glancing swiftly up and down the street 
to assure herself that her suspicions were un¬ 
founded, she slipped noiselessly into the areaway 
and made her way to the side entrance. In the 
shadow of overhanging vines she waited and lis¬ 
tened again, peering back over the way she had 
come. Surely she had not been mistaken. Of 
a certainty that was a human figure moving in 
the shadow of the syringa bushes. She would 
wait. It might be a casual passer-by stopping* 
to light a cigarette. No, the figure moved too 
stealthily. She was sure it was to get into better 
position to watch her movements and that Charles 
would immediately learn of her presence in the 
house. She turned and rapped gently on the 
door. 

It was immediately answered. The door flew 
open and she heard a rapt exclamation, ‘^It’s 
herself, no less!’^ and she was snatched to Ann’s 
agitated bosom. 

^^God be praised!” ejaculated*Dennis, swallow¬ 
ing an uncomfortable lump in his throat. 

^‘You blessed dears!” exclaimed Eleanor, de¬ 
taching herself from Ann’s encircling arms. She 
was now heartily ashamed of her conduct to Mr. 
Thornton and indignant at being followed. She 
suddenly became animated and determined. 


114 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘^Dennis, I want you to do something for me,’^ 
she said. 

‘^Sure you do, Miss Eleanor,’’ he answered 
heartily. ‘‘Who else would you be askin’ to do 
it, whatever it is I” 

“I want you to go to my room and bring me 
my revolver. You’ll find it just inside the brown 
English traveling bag, in the pocket. Don’t let 
Mr. Charles hear you if you can help it. If he 
should hear you, busy yourself with seeing that 
the windows are closed or something. I’ll wait 
for you here.” 

“Sure you’ll wait here,” declared Ann. 
“Wherever else would you be waitin’, I’d like to 
know—unless you’d like to go to your little room 
above,” she added. 

“No, Ann, I’ll explain when Dennis comes back. 
Go, Dennis, please.” 

“I was just waitin’ to ask if that’s all you 
want. I’ll bring the whole contents of the room, 
if so you want them,” he assured her. 

She smiled atfectionately at him. “No, Den¬ 
nis, just the revolver. I’ll tell you all about it 
when you come back.” 

Dennis departed promptly. There was no way 
of passing from the back part of the house to 
the family rooms on the second floor other than 
by the front hall and staircase. The stairway 
fortunately set far back in the hall so that Dennis 
could pass through the dining-room and reach it 


AN EAVESDROPPER 


115 


without passing the library, through the door of 
which he could see that a light was still burning, 
by which he divined that Mr. Charles was still 
there. He reached the upper hall unobserved and 
spent a little time with the somewhat complicated 
fastenings of the foreign bag. He found the 
object he was seeking, refastened the bag, turned 
out the light, and softly opened the door. Clos¬ 
ing it quietly, he reached the head of the staircase 
and was about to hurry past the door of old 
Jasper’s bedroom when he heard low voices in 
the hall below. Dennis was above listening to 
conversations not intended for him, but he be¬ 
lieved the exigencies of this occasion warranted 
a departure from his usual high standard of con¬ 
duct. He placed his ear as close to the well of 
the staircase as he dared, and listened. He gath¬ 
ered that some one stood outside the open door 
talking in low tones to Mr. Charles, who was ap¬ 
parently standing inside. 

Some instinct prompted him to move nearer. 
In the gloom of the upper hall he could lean un¬ 
seen over the stair railing where it made an angle 
directly above the heads of the speakers. Prom 
this vantage point he could hear the grumbling 
tones of the visitor, but at first could not dis¬ 
tinguish the words. 

Charles’s reply, however, came in a distinct, 
unguarded tone: 

^^Well, what the hell if you have been working 


116 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


your bean! Do you expect a royal flush in every 
hand?’’ 

Dennis could not hear the reply. 

‘‘Well, what of me? Here I’ve been working 
for seventy-two hours on an infernally ticklish 
job, to say nothing of the shock to my nervous 
system when old rattle-bones made his get-away. 
Damn him! He let me in for the most repulsive 
job of my life. That sort of thing is offensive 
to my fastidious nature. That’s more in your 
line, Buggs; but there are some things you can’t 
do, you know. But that don’t prevent your hang¬ 
ing around with your paw stretched out. You’re 
running true to form now, Buggs. I hire you to 
watch a certain person, and instead of being on 
your job, here you are talking about your own 
damned carcass.” 

Buggs mumbled a reply that Dennis did not 
catch. 

“Can it, right now,” said Charles sharply, 
“and tell me where she is, and why you are not 
on your job. Go to it, I tell you, and make it 
snappy.” 

The man addressed muttered a grumbling pro¬ 
test, and stepped from outside into the dim light 
of the lower hall, and Dennis could now hear his 
words plainly. 

“When she left here,” he reported, “she went 
south on the Avenue four or five blocks. She was 
followed by a sedan—” 


AN EAVESDROPPER 117 

''The deuce you say!’’ exclaimed Charles in a 
startled tone. "Who could that have been?” 

"I twigged it was that lawyer you had here,” 
explained Buggs. 

"Well, I’ll he hanged if I ever thought of that. 
What happened?” urged Charles. 

"When he got to the corner of Fiftieth Street 
he got out of his car ^and waited for her, and 
when she come up he spoke to her.” 

"Did it look as though they had an appoint¬ 
ment?” came Charles’s voice in somewhat dis¬ 
turbed accents. 

"Naw,” said Buggs confidently. "Nothin’ 
doin’ on that. When he first spoke to her, she 
tossed up her head like a flipped filly, but after 
a while she chewed the rag with him.” 

"What did they talk about?” 

"How the hell do I know what they talked 
about? Do you think I’ve got ears that can hear 
half a block off?” snarled Buggs. 

"Oh, no,” said Charles suavely, "nothing of 
the sort. I don’t think you have anything that’s 
of any account. I’m only surprised that yoh were 
on your job at all, and not up at the Zoo looking 
at the monkeys.” 

"If you don’t like my sleuthing, do it yourself 
and be damned,” muttered Buggs. 

"Well, you must do me the justice to admit 
that I didn’t go out of my way to get you to sleuth 
for me. Yours is an entirely self-appointed job. 


118 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


recollect,” said Charles exasperatingly. ‘‘But 
go on. What did she do then!” 

“She took something out of his hand and put 
it in her wrist bag, and then he got into his car 
and drove off. Then she hopped it down for a 
coupla blocks, crossed over again and came back 
to this house. She looked all ’round'cautious like 
and then she beat it ^round the corner and got 
in through the side gate. I was just in time to 
see her knock on the side door, and it opened 
like she had pals inside, but it shut so quick I 
couldn’t see who let her in. And she’s somewhere 
in this house now,” he concluded. 

In his dismay that Eleanor’s retreat was dis¬ 
covered, Dennis nearly lost his balance; but he 
heard the relieved tones of Charles saying: 

“All right, Buggs. Good job. That’s just what 
I expected. If everything had gone as I figured 
it would, I could dismiss you for the rest of the 
night, she’d stay right here without watching, for 
she has no other place to go. But that cursed, 
meddlesome lawyer has butted in and now there 
may be the devil to pay. I’m pretty sure she’ll 
stay here all right, but you better stick around all 
night to make sure.” 

Buggs protested at this, but Charles went on, 
unheeding, “You can sleep under the syringa 
bushes with one eye open— And, Buggs—if you 
hear any peculiar sounds around about midnight, 
as if the Devil is let loose, don’t let it worry you. 


AN EAVESDROPPER 119 

A pure, undefiled saint like you has no cause to 
be afraid of the Devil, eh, BuggsT’ 

Dennis heard the light laughter accompanying 
the jest, and gathered that the speech was in¬ 
tended for flattery. 

Buggs chuckled evilly. 

‘‘Betcher life, if the DeviPs around he ain’t 
goin’ to pass you up to lay hands on me. You 
can pipe that. Gentleman Jim.” 

Before the words were fairly out of his mouth, 
Charles Bowen thrust out his arm and seized 
Buggs by the throat. 

‘‘None of that, you damned, blasted idiot,” he 
hissed in a rage. “If I ever hear you call me 
by that name again. I’ll bump you off where you 
stand.” 

Dennis moved cautiously nearer the head of the 
stairs in time to see Charles Bowen release his 
startled victim with a violent shove that nearly 
threw him from his balance. Buggs fell backward 
through the open door, tottered a moment on the 
steps, and threw his assailant a look compounded 
of abject terror and intense fury—a look not 
pleasant to see, for the revengeful rage predomi¬ 
nated. 

The man inside was quick to see his error, and 
as swift to attempt to repair it. He passed his 
hand over his forehead and then stretched it out 
to Buggs, who instinctively receded. 

“Forget it. Buddy—forget it, man,” he apolo- 


120 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


gized in an almost wheedling tone. ^ ‘ Dammit all, 
Buddy, you’re not going to cash in, now, just as 
we’re ready to take the pot,” he urged, as the 
frown on Buggs’ evil face threatened to become 
a permanent fixture. 

‘^Come on, now,” he went on. ^‘You know I 
haven’t had a wink of sleep for three days and 
nights, and I forgot myself. Let’s finish up this 
job together, you and me, and we’re fixed for 
life.” 

Dennis could not hear Buggs’s response to this 
appeal, but he saw Charles Bowen thrust his 
hands in his pockets and draw them out again, 
forcing their contents on the man outside. 

got ten thousand for you. Buddy. I swear 
it,” he said, ‘‘but in the excitement I lost it. 
God! You don’t know what it means, man, to pull 
off a stunt like that. You’re bound to slip a 
cog somewhere, and my slip was in losing that 
roll I got for you. But you’re welcome to all I’ve 
got now.” 

Buggs stepped into the light again to examine 
the money. 

“Hell!” he sniffed scornfully. “I could lift 
more’n this off a newsboy in one swipe, and get 
a night’s sleep in the bargain.” 

Charles appeared to consider that the man’s 
mood called for instant and effectual propitia¬ 
tion, for he thrust the thumb and forefinger of 


AN EAVESDROPPER 121 

his right hand into an inner pocket and drew 
forth a jeweled ring. 

^'Take this, Buddy. IVe been keeping this 
sparkler for you for a surprise.’^ 

He held it where a ray of light fell from the 
hall lamp upon it, and scattered innumerable 
points of brilliant lights from a superb diamond. 
Buggs suppressed any betrayal of his cupidity 
and condescendingly accepted the jewel, mutter¬ 
ing sullenly as he dropped it into his coat pocket; 

‘^The hell you have! You better see you don’t 
get fresh again. IVe heard say money goes to 
the head; but if you try to double-cross me again 
you may damn well find yourself without either 
head or money.” 

He wheeled about and stalked sulkily down the 
steps and disappeared. 

Charles stood at the door for some seconds 
without moving. Once he made a movement as 
if he would follow Buggs. Then he stepped back 
as if he thought better of it and closed the door. 

He drew his watch from his pocket and con¬ 
sulted it under the sickly light in the hall. 

‘ ^ Eleven-thirty. No sleep for me for another 
night,” he yawned. His face was haggard from 
fatigue. ^H’ll take twenty minutes,” he con¬ 
cluded, still consulting the dial of his watch. He 
slipped the time-piece back into his pocket and 
returned to the drawing-room. 


122 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


When Dennis, a few minutes later, tiptoed 
softly down the carpeted stairs, he heard the 
sound of heavy breathing and knew that Charles 
had dropped instantly into profound slumber. 

Fearing that Eleanor would question his pro¬ 
longed stay, he hastened to the kitchen. On the 
way he paused a moment in the butler’s pantry to 
regain his composure so that Eleanor might not 
read the signs of his distress in his face. How 
«ould he warn her without frightening her into 
inaction? Call up the police? There was no tel¬ 
ephone in the miser’s house. Go personally and 
report? That would be leaving the women un¬ 
protected during his absence. He glanced at the 
pistol in his hand, and resolved to put it in her 
possession at once. He knew that she could shoot, 
and shoot straight. 


CHAPTER XIII 


TBESPASS 

W HEN Dennis returned he found Ann 
wringing her hands and expostulating 
with Eleanor. At sight of him she broke 
forth impetuously: 

‘‘Dennis, man, there’s a man without in the 
bushes that’s been following Miss Eleanor, and 
she means to go out and kill the devil. For the 
love of God argufy with her, and prevent her 
from going to destruction.” 

“Sure, you won’t do that, Miss Eleanor,” Den¬ 
nis urged. “What’s the good of your going out 
to find trouble for yourself? It’s not becomin’ 
in a woman to go out by herself and shoot up 
a man.” 

Eleanor laughed a little cynically, mistaking 
his agitation for fear for himself. She rose and 
held out her hand for the weapon; then quickly 
examined it to make sure that it was loaded. 

“I’ll leave these things here,” she said, glanc¬ 
ing at her bag and umbrella, “until I come back 
—if I come back, ’ ’ she added quickly. 

At this Ann wailed and implored her not to 
expose herself to the threatening danger. 

“He’s a man,” she warned. “What show has 
a woman against him?” 

123 


124 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

“My little gun will shoot as far as his, Ann,’’ 
Eleanor assured her. “He will have no advan¬ 
tage over me there.” 

When they found that she was determined to 
go, “Wait a minute, then, till I get the ax, and 
I’ll go with you,” said Dennis. 

“And I the rolling pin,” said Ann, suiting the 
action to the word. 

They sallied out, Eleanor in advance, and Ann 
valiantly in the rear. Across the street a night 
patrolman was leisurely passing, his night stick 
swinging carelessly in his hand. When they 
neared the syringa bushes Eleanor raised her re¬ 
volver and said in ringing tones: 

“Come out of there, you fellow skulking in the 
shadow. I can see you. I’m going to fire on the 
count of three. One—” 

Before she had time to realize that, standing 
in a ray of moonlight drifting through a broken 
cloud, she offered a conspicuous mark for her 
opponent, she was astonished at the suddenness 
of the response to her command. 

Out from the shadow dashed the skulking figure 
of a man, bending low to avoid the expected bullet, 
and vaulted the iron railing in a lightning flash. 
Another instant and the policeman darted after 
the flying figure, and the footsteps of both could 
be heard far along the street, breaking the silence 
of the night. 

No hard-pressed division was ever more re- 



TRESPASS 


125 


lieved at the arrival of reserves than the valiant 
little band who waited breathlessly the result of 
the chase. Presently the triumphant officer re¬ 
turned with his prisoner. 

^^What^s the charge, lady?^^ he asked. 

^‘Trespass,” declared Eleanor promptly. 

^‘Nothin’ doin V’ snarled the man. ‘‘I^m a pri¬ 
vate detective and I was on duty here.’’ 

private detective, eh?” jeered the officer. 
‘‘Well, then, upon my word, you’re an honor to 
the profession, you are, jumpin’ the fence and 
runnin’ like a hound on the moor at the sight 
of two women and an unarmed man—no disre¬ 
spect to your weapon there,” he smiled, glancing 
at Dennis’s ax. 

“You can ring up the house and ask Mr. Bowen' 
if I’m not a detective,” insisted the prisoner. 

“I can tell by your mug you’re no detective,” 
replied the policeman, “but if you are, you’d bet¬ 
ter arrest yourself. You’ll go far to find another 
jail-bird with a mug like yours.” 

He had fiashed his light on the reluctant pris¬ 
oner’s face, who made futile attempts to prevent 
his getting a good look at him. 

“No, I can’t say I’ve seen you before, but I’m 
thinking the Captain will have a better memory 
than me. For a private detective you’re over¬ 
anxious about that right hand pocket of your coat 
there.” 

With a quick movement, the officer thrust his 


126 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

hand into the pocket and drew forth, in spite of 
the prisoner's frantic effort to prevent him, the 
diamond ring. He held it up and examined it by 
his electric torch, not unmindful the while of the 
furtive movements of his captive ^s eye measuring 
the possibilities of escape. 

It was a magnificent solitaire in a well-worn, 
but very quaint and original setting. 

‘‘My mother’s,’’ gasped Eleanor. 

‘ ‘ That settles it! ” promptly decided the officer. 

The prisoner appeared to be a dull, slow-witted, 
sullen man of deliberate movements, but in the 
second that the officer was off his guard in the 
disposal of the ring, a swift movement of the 
right leg threw the officer flat on his back, and 
before he fairly struck the pavement, he heard the 
sounds of marvelously swift feet receding in the 
distance. 

The policeman sprang to his feet and gave 
chase. Eleanor and her little army waited a few 
minutes for their return and then fled to the house 
and locked and barred themselves in their quar¬ 
ters. 

But for Dennis there was no sleep that night. 
By the unexpected escape of the arrested man, 
and the sudden disappearance of the patrolman 
in pursuit, Dennis had lost his opportunity of 
communicating his newly gained knowledge to the 
police. And as he thought it over in the watches 
of the night, he wondered what he had to tell. 


TRESPASS 


127 


Merely that the master of the house had employed 
a night watchman. And wouldnT the wily 
Charles claim that it was for the protection of 
Miss Eleanor, as by the terms of the will he could 
not offer her the protection of his house. 

The ghost of old Jasper made the midnight hid¬ 
eous again with his sepulchral laughter; but that 
troubled Dennis less than the discovery of Mr. 
Charles’s perfidious character, and the fearful 
danger that he believed threatened Miss Eleanor. 

What was the repulsive job” that revolted 
Mr. Charles’s fastidious nature? And why had 
he had no sleep for seventy-two consecutive 
hours? And what was the ‘^job” he was finish¬ 
ing which would fijsr him and Buggs for life? 


I 


CHAPTER XIV 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 

E leanor rose the following morning from 
the old sofa in Ann^s sitting-room where 
she had lain, fully dressed, the latter part 
of the night, resolved to go to Mr. Thornton and 
apologize for her rudeness, and ask his advice. 
Her nerves were a bit shaken after the events 
of the night. The phantom laughter of old Jas¬ 
per had again made the night hideous. The bolts 
that Dennis had made secure before retiring 
seemed to possess the charm that the running 
water had for Tam 0^ Shanter’s witches, for the 
laughter, while more malignant and more pro¬ 
longed, was certainly more distant. Ann had 
taken refuge again under the bedclothes, and 
Eleanor had kept her revolver close at hand. 

Dennis, knowing what he knew, and what he 
deemed best not to communicate to the women 
that night, was alert and watchful, and while he 
was apprehensive, he was not afraid. 

After breakfast, which Dennis served her in 
the sitting-room, Eleanor left the house by the 
service entrance, Dennis insisting on accompany¬ 
ing her and carrying her suit-case. She carried 

128 



ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 129 

her revolver in her hand until she turned the 
corner on the Avenue. She was, however, un¬ 
molested. There were no lurking shadows in the 
syringa shrubs; and if there were eyes in the 
windows of the uncanny house, they did not dis¬ 
turb her. 

After getting a little distance from the house 
she slackened her pace and filled her healthy 
young lungs with the crisp autumn air. On every 
side of her were sane and orderly people engaged 
in normal occupations. Overhead was a narrow 
strip of blue sky where friendly white clouds 
were hanging, their fleecy edges parting and sail¬ 
ing away in fantastic forms. Gradually she 
shook off the hideous nightmare. The sight of 
a policeman on the corner brought a little frown 
to her brow as she thought of the captured bur¬ 
glar, but she postponed consideration of him un¬ 
til she had settled other matters. 

By the time she was admitted to the lawyer’s 
private office, she had regained a fair measure 
of self-possession. Before she seated herself in 
the chair which he offered her, she said contritely: 

First, I want to apologize to you for my rude¬ 
ness last night, Mr. Thornton. I am thoroughly 
ashamed of myself. Can you forgive me?” 

The exercise had brought a faint color to her 
cheeks. He smiled pleasantly and held out a cor¬ 
dial hand, quite another man from the frigid 
automaton who had read the hateful will. 


130 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^^Now that you have come and relieved my 
mind of some apprehensions I had concerning 
you, there is nothing to forgive, ’ ’ he said, holding 
her hand in his. ‘‘Things look differently on a 
bright pleasant morning. I was foolish enough 
last night to fear you had nowhere to go.’’ 

“You weren’t so foolish as you think,” she re¬ 
plied, seating herself in the chair which he again 
proffered. “I have come to beg you to say again 
what you said last, night so that I may tell you 
how reckless I was to treat your offer in the un¬ 
gracious way I did.” 

He was sure she had been through an unpleas¬ 
ant experience since he last saw her. 

“I ought to thank you for giving me the op¬ 
portunity to do penance in some manner for draw¬ 
ing up that infernal will,” he responded. 

“That was a mere matter of business,” she 
affirmed. “Your offer of assistance was quite 
another matter—^you certainly didn’t look for any 
business from me,” she smiled. 

“Hardly,” he admitted, smiling with his lips, 
but his eyes hardening at the memory of the un¬ 
necessary harshness of the will. “Not from that 
estate surely. May I ask how long you have lived 
with your uncle?” 

She told him. His eyes narrowed as he lis¬ 
tened to the tale of her cousin’s return and her 
uncle’s growing miserliness toward her. From 
time to time he put in a question that prompted 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 131 


a fuller revelation, and lie was soon in possession 
of the fact that Uncle Jasper had administered 
her mother’s estate, which she had always sup¬ 
posed was ample, and that when she entered his 
house, she was absolutely dependent on him. She 
had soon spent what she brought back with her 
in replenishing her wardrobe, and her allowance 
only covered the bare necessities. He even dis¬ 
covered that when she so scornfully rejected his 
offer the evening before, she had been literally 
penniless, and that she had returned and spent 
the night with the servants. 

‘ Hncredible! ” he exclaimed. ‘^What kind of 
a man is this cousin of yours? Ho you like 
him?” 

‘‘No, I loathe him,” she frankly admitted. 

“Why do you loathe him? Because he made 
love to you?” he asked with a kindly smile. 

Thornton talked quietly, but he was seething 
with indignation. Experienced as he was in the 
frailties of the human heart when legacies be¬ 
came a matter of dispute, he had never encoun¬ 
tered a case to equal this one in premeditated 
cruelty. 

“Partly,” she said. “I liked him at first, well 
enough. He was so kind to everybody, and espe¬ 
cially to Uncle Jasper. I assure you it takes 
some virtue t'o love Uncle Jasper, and Charles 
has spent a great deal of time with him, especially 
lately since he has been so near his end.” 


132 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^^How did he know he was near his end?’^ 
Thornton asked quickly. 

‘‘Why, we have been expecting it any moment 
the last few weeks,” she replied. 

“Who has been expecting it!” Thornton in¬ 
quired. 

“All of us, Dennis and Charles.” 

“What made you expect it?” 

“Why, Dr. Davison said there was some com¬ 
plication of the heart, and that he was liable to 
drop off any moment. That was why Charles 
was with him so much at the last,” she explained. 

“Did you hear Dr. Davison say that?” he ques¬ 
tioned. 

“No, but Dennis did,” she replied, a little puz¬ 
zled frown between her eyebrows. 

“He didn’t seem very near dropping off when 
I saw him,” said Thornton, recalling the scene 
in the library the day he made the will. 

“No—” said Eleanor. “Charles thought he 
was pretending to be more feeble than he was.” 

“Why did he think that?” 

“I suppose because uncle came downstairs and 
made the will, and walked up alone, and then 
took this journey without taking either Dennis 
or Charles with him,” she replied, wondering 
why this wasn’t perfectly obvious to the lawyer. 

“Then he didn’t think it until the day your 
uncle made the will? Before that he believed as 
you did?” persisted Thornton. 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 133 

“I’m quite sure of it,” she replied. 

“And yet you say he spent a great deal of 
time with him. He had then constant opportunity 
to observe him. Strange that he could be so thor¬ 
oughly deceived. And Dennis, too, you’re sure 
he was really deceived!” 

“Oh, I’m sure Dennis was deceived,” she as¬ 
serted positively. “Only the day before Uncle 
went away, he had a very serious attack and Den¬ 
nis was sure he was dying then. He told me 
that Charles used a very powerful remedy to re¬ 
vive him, and I recall now that Dennis spoke of 
Charles’ great distress when the remedy for a 
time seemed to be unavailing. He sent for Dr.* 
Davison in great haste. Dr. Davison had difficulty 
in restoring him,” she went on, as the incident 
was revived in her memory, “and he told them 
he could not possibly survive another attack of 
that kind. He warned them, too, that it would 
probably be followed by another very soon. I 
think we had every reason for thinking him a 
very sick man,” she concluded earnestly. 

“Ye-s, I should—think—you—had,” agreed 
Thornton musingly. He sat for some time gazing 
thoughtfully at a corner of the ceiling while he 
stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger. 

“You must have had plenty of opportunity to 
study him,” he continued presently; “this Cousin 
Charles, I mean—forced to live in such close re¬ 
lations with him. Do you think he was sincere 


134 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


in his reluctance to part with an old man who was 
the only barrier between him and a pot of 
money 

‘‘Charles didnT live with us/^ she made haste 
to assure him. “He refused uncle’s otfer of a 
home with him, and had an apartment at the 
Vanderbilt. Thank heaven, that was one thing 
I was spared,” she ejaculated fervently. 

■ “You haven’t answered my question about his 
sincerity,” he suggested. 

She looked thoughtful a moment. 

“I can’t say as to that,” she said slowly. “He 
seemed genuine enough. I’m sure Dennis doesn’t 
doubt it.” 

More concentration had come into his eyes as 
she proceeded with her revelations, and now he 
sat and tapped his chin thoughtfully with his 
eyeglasses. 

“I think I see light,” he presently remarked. 
“Miss Bowen, were you aware of a previous 
will f ’ ’ 

“No. I do not think there was one. I do not 
believe Uncle Jasper could bring himself to make 
a will in favor of a female heir, nor could he 
bear to give his money to charities, and so I 
believe there was no other will.” 

‘ ‘ Hm, ’ ’ said Thornton. ‘ ‘ There isn’t the slight¬ 
est doubt. Miss Bowen, that your cousin was in 
a panic when your uncle fell ill that day, for, at 
that time, there probably was no will. If he had 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 135 

died intestate, half the fortune would have gone 
to you.’’ 

‘‘And he mustered all his scanty strength to 
smite me a cruel blow in that will.” She couldn’t 
quite keep the bitterness out of her tone. “I 
wouldn’t mind the loss of the money so much. I 
regarded that as the last obsession of a senile 
old man, but the other stipulations—” She 
winked back a tear, but scorning the self-pity that 
it implied and remembering her new resolution, 
she tossed her head defiantly to show that she 
had perfect command of herself. 

Thornton stood up, went over to the bookcase 
and gazed at the heavy tomes without seeing 
them; then took a turn or two about the room 
with his hands in his pockets, stopping presently 
before her. She was contemplating the em¬ 
broidered monogram on a handkerchief faintly 
bordered with blue, but she looked up quickly and 
rose to her feet. 

“I am detaining you,” she said. “I forget 
you are a busy man. I’m so sorry—and I didn’t 
tell you what I came for—” she gasped in dismay. 

The sudden cognizance that she must presently 
leave these sheltering walls, as remotely entitled 
as she was to their protection, brought a startled, 
hunted look into her eyes that Thornton had 
once seen in the eyes of a fawn at bay. 

He motioned her to be seated again, at the 
same time dropping into a chair opposite her. 


136 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘And I am just getting ready to hear it/’ he 
said lightly. “I had to have a minute to digest 
what you’ve already told me. You want to tell 
me something about yourself, don’t you?” 

She nodded, and hesitated a moment, seeking 
the right formula. How did one go about beg¬ 
ging? 

He guessed her trouble and helped her out. 

“You want to tell me that this sudden change 
of residence has left you financially embarrassed. 
Is that it?” 

She laughed a little ruefully. “It is tactful 
of you to call it a change of residence,” she said. 
“It would be truer to say a loss of residence, 
for I have nothing in the world, Mr. Thornton, 
but my wardrobe and I’m not sure of that. Not 
even a car-fare.” She held out her hands, palms 
upwards, to show their emptiness. “I want your 
advice, Mr. Thornton!” she said, dropping them 
again with fingers clasped in her lap. “What can 
a girl do who hasn’t been trained to anything? 
I could be a companion to some invalid or pos¬ 
sibly a governess. But I must have something 
immediately. I have literally no place to go when 
I leave this office. I can’t go back to stay with 
Dennis and Ann for fear it may compromise them, 
and, too, I don’t believe it is safe.” 

She glanced around the office as if appealing 
to its friendly walls for shelter. 

“If I could tide things over until—^until—^I was 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 137 

to have been married in Paris, Mr. Thornton, but 
was called away by the sudden illness of my 
mother. And some time, just as soon as—Colonel 
Merriman is free to leave—and come to me— 
I’m sure he’d be grateful to you.” She smiled 
bravely, but her color had receded, and the dark 
circles were showing under her eyes. He had 
not interrupted her while she was speaking, but 
the sympathetic understanding in his eyes had 
encouraged her to go on. 

Now he smiled broadly. 

‘‘Now, this is getting interesting,” he said. 
“If there is anything my wife loves it is a ro¬ 
mance. She will simply mob you and keep you 
for this fortunate young man. I’ll get her to 
come down and get you. I can see myself dis¬ 
placed in her affections from now on, but we’ll 
get her here, and let her speak for herself.” 

He took the receiver from the telephone and 
placed it at his ear. 

“That you, Molly?” he said after the proper 
connections had been made. “Listen, my dear, 
I want you to come down to the office and meet 
the young lady I told you about last night and 
be prepared to take her home with you as your 
guest for an indefinite period.” 

The wires buzzed a second or so and he spoke 
again. 

‘ ‘ She is here now—^yes—all right. Thank you, 
dear. What’s that! Once more.” 



138 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

He listened a moment, and then hung up the 
receiver with a laugh. ‘^Mrs. Thornton has to 
have her little joke with me,’’ he said, ‘‘but she’s 
coming right down to take you to our home with 
her as our guest. You’ll like her,” he said posi¬ 
tively, “and she’ll like you.” 

“Oh, Mr. Thornton,” said Eleanor, winking 
back a rush of tears, “how could I have been so 
rude to you last night! I don’t deserve this from 
you. How can I thank you?” She held out her 
hand to him, and he held it tightly while he patted 
it with his other hand. 

“You gave me a bad night, young lady. When 
I told my wife about the provisions of that will, 
and how I waited to see whether you would leave, 
or rather how you would leave, and of your walk¬ 
ing out of the house alone with your suitcase and 
not calling a taxi, and of my leaving you stand¬ 
ing alone on the street corner at that time of night, 
she almost insisted on my going out again to 
look for you. She said I should have kidnaped 
you on the spot. It takes a wife to let a man 
see himself as others see him, and she said of 
course no girl would trust herself with me as 
I must have seemed reading that will. She’ll 
be here in a jiffy.” 

And she was. She came in smiling, a plump, 
tailored figure all in brown from her smart velvet 
toque to her trim booted feet. On account of 
her vivacity she seemed younger than her staid. 


ELEANOR VISITS THE LAWYER 139 

middle-aged husband: She approached Eleanor 
without ceremony, quite as though they had been 
parted for a few hours. 

‘^My dear!’^ she said, taking the girl in her 
arms, a feat somewhat difficult to accomplish, for 
Eleanor was quite a head taller than her bene¬ 
factress. ‘^We are so glad to get you back again.’’ 

‘ ‘ And I am so glad to be taken back again after 
my treatment of Mr. Thornton last night. I don’t 
deserve it, I assure you,” said Eleanor, returning 
the embrace. 

‘‘How could you be expected to know what to 
do after that—that—” She turned to her hus¬ 
band, her indignation showing in her fine brown 
eyes. 

“But let us not talk about it,” she protested, 
“you look thoroughly fagged. What have you 
to take with you? Nothing but this little week¬ 
end case?” 

She glanced swiftly around, and, seeing noth¬ 
ing but the suitcase, she shot a significant look 
at her husband. His eyes met hers with grim 
understanding—the prospective heiress of the 
Bowen millions reduced to this was what they 
meant. 

“This is my entire fortune,” laughed Eleanor, 
picking up the suitcase, “unless you list my um¬ 
brella, which might, as a last resort, be used as 
a roof to cover my head.” 

They passed out of a door that led them directly 


140 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


to the main corridor. Thornton was about to 
accompany them to the elevator when a look from 
his wife’s eyes warned him not to do so. While 
they were waiting for the elevator Mrs. Thornton 
exclaimed: 

‘^Oh, excuse me just a minute. I forgot some¬ 
thing. ’ ’ 

She went swiftly back to the office and closed 
the door behind her. 

‘‘Where did she spend the night, John? I can’t 
wait another minute to know?” 

“She went back by the service door and spent 
the night with the servants,” he replied, cutting 
otf every word separately to give vent to his in¬ 
dignation. 

“What a monster that uncle was!” she de¬ 
clared. 

The elevator had barely descended below the 
level of the floor when another visitor to Thorn¬ 
ton was announced; and Dennis, cap in hand, was 
ushered into the lawyer’s preseiice. It was a full 
hour later when he left with a buoyant step and 
a relieved mind. 


CHAPTER XV 


A THEOKY ABOUT THE GHOST 

AT the curb stood a smart coupe, and this too 
/-% was brown, with a gold monogram. Into 
this Eleanor followed her energetic hostess, 
who sat at the wheel and steered the car skillfully 
through the traffic on Fifth Avenue. Passing the 
First National Bank, Eleanor caught sight of a 
figure emerging which she recognized as Charles. 
She involuntarily shrank hack in her seat, but not 
before she caught what seemed to be a distinctly 
worried expression on the face of the heir. 

‘‘His new honors seem not to fit him comfort¬ 
ably,’’ she thought. 

But Mrs. Thornton did not give her opportun¬ 
ity to dwell on herself or her troubles. She 
chatted vivaciously as her gloved hands rested 
lightly on the wheel, and it was not until she 
had turned the car over to the uniformed chauf¬ 
feur, and Eleanor was taking off her hat in the 
charming, restful room which had been assigned 
her, that Mrs. Thornton commented on her fa¬ 
tigued appearance. 

“You spent the night with the servants, John 
tells me,” she said, softly. “It was monstrous.” 

141 


142 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

‘‘It wasnT that/’ said Eleanor, observing her 
haggard face in the mirror. “I had done that 
before. It was the only cheerful place in the 
house—but—there was something else.” 

“Well, never mind what it was, my dear, you 
just forget it. We’ll have lunch presently—just 
you and I—and then you must lie down and sleep 
all the afternoon. John will make me give an 
account of my stewardship, and I want to make 
a good showing.” 

She talked lightly, giving a touch here and 
there to the curtains, and to the pink chrysan¬ 
themums which filled the room with their bright 
glow. 

Left alone, Eleanor sank into a chair and, lean¬ 
ing her head against the little comfy pillow, which 
was cannily designed to just fit into the back of 
the neck, she allowed herself the luxury of relaxa¬ 
tion. Repose did not come all at once. She had 
not realized, until she found herself safe within 
these sheltering walls, how very tense she had 
been. If the strained nerves did not at once 
respond to the opportunity, at least no further 
strain was accumulating. 

After she lunched with Mrs. Thornton in a 
handsomely appointed dining-room she retired 
again to her safe room, and after the luxury of 
a bath, she stretched her weary limbs between 
fragrant, soothing sheets, and presently fell 
asleep. 


A THEORY ABOUT THE GHOST 143 


When she awakened, her trunk had arrived. 
She wondered how the lawyer had managed to 
secure it, but she was very glad to avail herself 
of its contents. And very handsome she looked 
in her black dress of soft lusterless crepe as she 
offered her hand to her host in the drawing-room. 

Would you know her for the same Miss 
Bowen, John?’’ significantly remarked Mrs. 
Thornton. 

Won’t you please call me Eleanor, Mrs. 
Thornton?” smiled the owner of the name. ^Ht 
will make me feel more at home.” 

‘‘Eleanor then; I’m glad to call you that. I 
don’t like the name of Bowen. It is hard. Just 
the kind of a name for your Uncle Jasper and 
for your Cousin Charles. I’m glad you are going 
to change it.” 

‘ ‘ Do you like Merriman better ? ’ ’ laughed Elea¬ 
nor with a soft light in her eyes. 

“Merriman—a merry man after the gloomy 
creatures you’ve been living with—well, I should 
say I do.” 

After dinner Thornton gradually led up to the 
subject of Cousin Charles again. 

“Speaking of your Cousin Charles,” he began, 
“I gathered from what you told me this morn¬ 
ing that you never knew much about him until 
he turned up a few weeks ago.” 

“No,” she explained, “our families were not 
intimate, in spite of the relationship. Of course 


144 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


I heard of his daring flights when I was in France, 
and I was so proud of him and wanted to meet 
him. But when I met the hero in real life I as¬ 
sure you I was sadly disillusioned. I donT want 
to meet any more of them. I want to preserve 
my illusions. I canT bear to think that magnifi¬ 
cent fighting was done by men who are bullies and 
cowards in private life.’’ 

‘‘Aren’t you a little severe on your cousin? I 
understand you to say you have nothing on which 
to base your—distrust, shall I call it?” 

“You are a lawyer and you want facts,” she 
laughed a little grimly, ‘ ‘ so you ’ll just scotf when 
I tell you about the ghost.” 

“The ghost!” exclaimed both host and hostess 
at the same instant. 

“Yes,” she said, her lip curling a little, “ ‘the 
ghost of Uncle Jasper.’ ” 

Mrs. Thornton glanced quickly at her husband. 
Had the poor girl, then, suffered so keenly that 
she was having delusions ? 

The hard-headed lawyer narrowed his eyes. 
“Suppose you tell me about it,” he said gently 
enough. 

She told him of its first appearance on the 
night after Uncle Jasper went away and of how 
they were frightened at the time; and of their 
precautions against it on the following night. 
She hesitated in her tale at first, momentar¬ 
ily expecting interruptions of “Nonsense!” 


A THEORY ABOUT THE GHOST 145 

‘^Nerves!’’ but to her surprise he listened with 
unfeigned interest and put in questions from 
time to time to refresh her memory. 

Where was Cousin Charles the first night you 
heard it?’’ he asked. 

‘‘He was in Connecticut. He went to Smith- 
ville at once when he learned of Uncle Jasper’s 
death, and didn’t return until the afternoon of 
the next day.” 

“How do you know he went that night?” 

“He said he was going, and I suppose he did 
—but why do you ask?” Her clear, truthful eyes 
met his in surprise. 

“Oh, just an inquisitive habit I have,” he 
smiled. “And last night the ghost walked again, 
did it? Hid you think it was a sure enough 
ghost?” 

she denied with a slight curl of her 
lips. “But I didn’t think it a pleasant thing, 
and I believed it to be a menace to me.” 

“What do you think his motive was, assuming 
for the moment that it was Charles?” he asked. 

“You’ll think me silly, Mr. Thornton, but I’m 
going to make a clean breast of it and confess 
to you just what I did think.” She hesitated 
a moment and looked straight at him as if forti¬ 
fying herself against his expected derision. 

‘‘Tell me everything,’’ he said invitingly. “I’m 
sure it won’t be silly. You’ve surely had provo¬ 
cation enough to think anything,” 


146 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


should think so,” declared Mrs. Thornton, 
wonder she kept her head to think anything.” 
She was listening with such absorbed attention 
that she had dropped three stitches in the brown 
sweater she was knitting. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE CASE AGAINST CHAKLES 

E leanor determined to make a clean breast 
I of all her suspicions and aversions. 

have been thinking it strange, Mr. 
Thornton,’’ she began, ‘‘that Uncle Jasper did 
not make his will until the very day of his death. 
He knew that he was liable to drop off any day. 
Dr. Davison told me that he had told him so. 
He explained to me the nature of the heart trou¬ 
ble which was too technical for me to understand, 
but he told me that he had explained it to Uncle 
Jasper, and had told him to put his affairs in 
order. Now why didn’t he do it?” 

She shot the question defiantly at the lawyer, 
but the only reply she received was a counter 
question. 

“What do you think was the reason?” 

“Well, here’s where you’re going to think me 
silly, perhaps, but the more I think of it the 
more logical it looks to me. I believe Uncle Jas¬ 
per was not so bent on leaving his whole property 
to Charles as Charles thought or tried to make 
me believe. He didn’t know him. For all he 

knew Charles would squander it all in no time. 

147 



148 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

And Uncle Jasper would rise from his grave to 
defend his money—’’ 

They both smiled at the unwitting allusion. 

^‘No/’ she disavowed, don’t think that was 
the ghost’s business with me. He had no call, 
as Ann would say, to persecute me. 1 couldn’t 
squander his money.” 

‘‘But you think Uncle Jasper had not made 
up his mind what to do?” he queried, leading her 
back to her story. 

“Yes, that’s just what I think. Just as he 
could not bring himself to make a will in my 
favor when I was the only heir, so he couldn’t 
decide to entrust the whole of it to Charles. So 
he vacillated until he had that almost fatal at¬ 
tack the day he went away.” 

“But you haven’t made out a very strong case 
against Charles yet. He did, finally, make the 
will in Charles’s favor and he certainly had no 
hesitation about you at the last.” 

For a moment she studied her nails, which 
were pink and well-shaped, the while a slight 
frown gathered on her forehead. 

“I’m mean, Mr. Thornton, just despicable,” 
she avowed, “but you might just as well know 
'the depth of my depravity. I think, now, that 
Charles has been working against me—all the 
time. Uncle Jasper refused to see me almost im¬ 
mediately after Charles came home. Before that, 
while he was not affectionate, he was not vindic- 


THE CASE AGAINST CHARLES 149 

tive. I was physically comfortable, and he made 
me an allowance. Charles represented to me that 
he withdrew the allowance because of his jealous 
hoarding for him and against all Charles’s plead¬ 
ings. Then Charles offered to share his allow¬ 
ance, which seems to have been a very liberal 
one, with me. Imagine it! ” 

She drew up her head in the manner that 
Charles had always disliked, and her lips curled 
disdainfully. 

The lawyer shifted his position. 

‘‘You haven’t, even yet, made out such a had 
case against Charles, ’ ’ he said deliberately, watch¬ 
ing her intently while he talked. “Charles was 
in love with you, and you didn’t respond with 
sufficient warmth. It may have been only an 
error of judgment for him to think a display of 
generosity on his part would win you. And if he 
did influence your uncle to be harsh toward you, 
was it not perhaps that his kindness might stand 
out in such marked contrast that you’d just have 

to fall for itr’ 

* 

Eleanor winked hard for a moment, then she 
flashed forth. 

“I hneiv you’d think me horrid, Mr. Thornton. 
I thought so myself at first, but I don’t any more. 
In fact, since I have gone all over it with you, 
I am more than ever convinced that I am right. 
I wish now I had gone straight up to Uncle Jas¬ 
per’s room, and found out for myself. It was 


150 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


too late, though, when I thought of it. Poor Uncle 
Jasper!’’ she murmured. 

‘^Well, perhaps you are right,” he admitted. 
‘‘Now to the ghost. What do you think Charles’s 
motive could be to do such a dastardly thing as 
that?” 

“I think he didn’t know that I was in that part 
of the house the first night, and that it was an 
attempt to frighten Dennis and Ann away from 
the house. That would leave me absolutely alone 
with him and so forced to marry him.” She made 
a gesture of disgust. 

“But why couldn’t he discharge them?” 

“That would be showing his hand to me, don’t 
you see? You can’t imagine what a hypocrite 
he is. I’m only just beginning to see it myself.” 

She frowned, hesitated a moment, and then 
went on: “Mr. Thornton, I can’t help thinking 
he knew what was in that will—that in some way 
he overreached himself. To be sure, my solution 
of the mystery was not reached until I knew the 
contents of the will.” She hesitated again 
thoughtfully. 

He watched her intently while she appeared to 
be reconstructing the occurrences of the past few 
eventful days. 

“He must have known I was in the servants’ 
quarters last night,” she went on as if reasoning 
it out with herself for the first time, for the man 
arrested on the grounds claimed that he was a 


THE CASE AGAINST CHARLES 151 

private detective. I didn’t believe it then; he had 
my mother’s ring, and I was sure he was a bur¬ 
glar. But what if he was sure enough a detec¬ 
tive ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What’s that! ’ ’ exclaimed Thornton. ‘ ‘ What’s 
that!” forgetting for an instant his role of being 
nothing more than a sympathetic listener. 

She told him half defiantly of how she was sure 
some one was following her while she walked the 
street the evening before, and of her sudden de¬ 
termination to ‘‘be a man” and see the thing 
through, whatever it was; of Dennis going to her 
room for the revolver, and then she laughed a 
little foolishly as she described the sally on the 
intruder. 

“It seems funny now, Mr. Thornton, but it 
wasn’t funny at the time. I can face a danger 
that I knoiv, but I have to be desperately reckless 
not to be a little scared when I walk out to fight 
an unknown something in the dark and am not 
sure that there is a safe retreat behind me.” 

She was appealing to him now, excusing herself 
for her melodramatic action, and she shrank a 
little from the laughter she expected to hear. 

But there was no laughter in the eyes which 
met hers. On the contrary there was a hard, 
steely glow in them, and something more, an in- 
. tensity, an eagerness for more information. 

“And after that,” he said, “what did you do?” 

“I went up the servants’ stairway with Ann 


152 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

and Dennis, and we bolted all the doors after 
us as we went; I forgot to tell you that I had 
Dennis put bolts on every door yesterday morn¬ 
ing. Charles had requested me to stay until after 
the will was read, and as it was going to be read 
so late in the evening I had to spend another night 
in the house and—and—I just anticipated the 
ghost, that’s all.” She laughed nervously. 

‘‘And you were justified in your precautions, 
were you?” 

“Yes, indeed,” she smiled. “Even Dennis is 
convinced now that ghosts, try as they may, can’t 
pass bolts any more than Tam O’ Shanters 
witches could cross the running water.” 

“Just what did the ghost do? Go over that 
again, please.” 

“The intention, I am sure, was at first to 
frighten the servants. Did you ever hear Uncle 
Jasper laugh? He had a most disagreeable com¬ 
bination of discords, and there was no mirth 
ever in his laughter. It was always most un¬ 
pleasant and creepy. Well, he just laughed the 
first night, that was all, and it was horrible, un¬ 
earthly. It didn’t seem to come from a human 
throat; it just floated about in the atmosphere. 
It crept in through the transom and floated about 
the ceiling, and moved up and down the corridor. 
I ran to Ann’s sitting-room, from which their 
bedroom opens, and locked myself in before I 


THE CASE AGAINST CHARLES 153 

really knew what had wakened me. And then, 
when that weird, unearthly sound enveloped me, 
I just miserably collapsed in a dead faint.’’ 

There was nothing in the lawyer’s appearance 
but the hard look about the mouth to register the 
seething indignation within. 

^‘How did the servants take it?” he asked 
quietly. 

^^Well, you know I was hardly in a position 
to judge,” she smiled. ‘‘All I know is from tes¬ 
timony heard the next morning. According to 
Dennis, he stood his ground, firmly defying the 
powers of the nether world and this; and as Ann 
was submerged in the bedclothes and I uncon¬ 
scious there is no one to dispute him, I will say 
this for them, however,” she went on more seri¬ 
ously, “they behaved as well as I did, and last 
night they were undoubtedly frightened, but stood 
loyally by me all through the night.” 

He sat with half-closed eyes thinking deeply for 
a few moments, and then he suddenly asked: 

“Is that all?” 

“All? she exclaimed. “Yes, that is all! 

If there had been any more I should not be here 
to tell the tale.” 

“And I’m not going to let you ask her another 
question to-night,” exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, 
jumping up suddenly and hastily putting the 
sweater she was knitting into its basket. She had 


154 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


been swallowing lumps in her throat all through 
Eleanor’s recital. going to take her 

straight to her room and put her to bed. Come 
along, you poor child.” 

‘‘Just a minute more,” pleaded Thornton. “I 
want to ask her about that ring.” 

“Not another question to-night,” firmly de¬ 
cided Mrs. Thornton. “Why, do you realize this 
poor child has been on the rack for two nights 
now without a wink of sleep?” And without 
hardly giving Eleanor an opportunity to otfer her 
hand to her host to bid him good-night the sym¬ 
pathetic little woman swept her out of the room. 

The lawyer paced slowly back and forth the 
length of the drawing-room, his chin resting on 
his breast, hands clasped behind his back while 
he marshaled all the facts he had gathered from 
Eleanor and Dennis, and tested them by his sus¬ 
picions. It was late when he went up, but he 
had decided to do a little investigating of certain 
matters on his own account. 

“Molly,” he said, just before turning out his 
light preparatory to retiring, “what was the 
name of that man Eleanor was going to marry 
in Paris?” 

“Merriman, Wayne Merriman,” she replied 
sleepily. 

“Wayne Merriman? Where have I seen that 
name lately?” He searched his memory a mo¬ 
ment. “By Jove! Molly, wake up! I saw it on 


THE CASE AGAINST CHAELES 155 


the passenger list of the Aquitania, which is due 
to-morrow or next day.’’ 

Molly waked up so effectually that she fairly 
bounced into Eleanor’s room to impart the good 
news. 


CHAPTER XVII 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 

W HILE the affairs of the Bowen family 
were following their predestined course, 
the S. S. Aquitania was steadily churn¬ 
ing its westward way across the Atlantic—uncon¬ 
sciously bringing its contribution to those affairs. 

On a certain day of the voyage two men in 
the uniforms of officers of the United States 
Army were sitting together in a snug corner on 
the sheltered side of the deck. Opposite them, 
leaning one elbow on the steamer rail and lei¬ 
surely smoking a short-stemmed pipe, stood a 
small, inconspicuous, but well-built man in a 
Scotch tweed overcoat which the wind, at inter¬ 
vals, flapped sportively about his sturdy legs. 
He had keen dark eyes which were at the moment 
casually occupied in gazing across the white- 
flecked, emerald-blue surface of the water to 
where the smoke of a passing steamer broke the 
horizon line. 

Farther down were long lines of passengers 
stretched out in wicker deck chairs, swathed like 
mummies in various colored rugs, dozing, smok¬ 
ing, or reading. 


156 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 


157 


The two officers were returning from their long 
watch on the Rhine. They had encountered each 
other in the smoking room on the first day of 
their passage and had been drawn together tem¬ 
porarily as men with similar experiences are 
wont to do on shipboard. They had just emerged 
from the dining-saloon, where they had partaken 
of an over-abundant luncheon, and had lighted 
their cigarettes and were smoking in comfortable 
silence. Presently the man at the rail became 
aware that they had drifted into a discussion 
of cases of errors in the reports of missing men 
during the war. He glanced fortuitously in their 
direction, and recognized the men as two officers 
whose names he had seen on the passenger list 
and whom he had seen in the smoking room. The 
elder, bronzed and grizzled, the one with the oak 
leaves on his shoulders, and the long vari-colored 
ribbons stretching across his breast, he had heard 
addressed as Major Pickering. The younger man, 
wearing a colonePs insignia and likewise the 
colors of foreign service, he knew to be Colonel 
Merriman. 

So much he observed with casual interest, and 
resumed his observation of the distant ship. 

^^The strangest case of mistaken identity I have 
heard,Colonel Merriman was saying, ‘4s that 
of an aviator whose death was reported by a sup¬ 
posed eyewitness. The body was brought in by 
a couple of brancardiers, and his funeral was at- 


158 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


tended by the other members of his squadron. 
His death was officially reported, and his family 
received official notification. Recently he has re¬ 
turned alive and well to his family.’^ 

^‘Yes, I suppose there were many such cases. 
The wonder to me is,’’ replied the major, ‘‘that 
they made as few mistakes as they did, but in 
this case they must have had the machine for 
identification unless it came down inside the en¬ 
emy lines.” 

“No, it came down in flames inside the French 
lines, but it was destroyed beyond recognition,” 
returned the Colonel. 

“It’s a poor squadron that doesn’t know its 
own machines, no matter how badly wrecked they 
are,” remarked the other officer dryly. “What 
was it? A free-for-all fight?” 

“No. There were only two allied planes and 
one enemy plane,” responded the Colonel. 

“It isn’t according to the traditions of the 
Air Force for two allied planes to be beaten down 
by one Boche,” responded the Major. “What 
was the other fellow, the eyewitness, doing?” 

“It was a matter of the other pilot’s Lewis 
gun failing to work, as those guns were in the 
habit of doing,” explained the Colonel. “His 
gun jammed after he had fired a round or two, 
and before he could get it in working order again, 
the fight was over. You know a minute is a long 
time in those air fights.” 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 


159 


‘‘I don’t get your point about it being a case 
of mistaken identity,” pursued Pickering. ^‘If 
the second pilot took part in the scrap he wasn’t 
probably more than fifty meters away—likely 
nearer. You can see the markings on those ma¬ 
chines hundreds of meters away, and those pilots 
know every make of a machine from their own 
little Spads to the monster, fast-climbing Fok- 
kers, and they know what tactics to use with each 
make. The second pilot was undoubtedly in a 
funk,” He tapped the ashes from his cigarette 
on the arm of his chair with some decision. 

‘‘That goes without saying. That is the point 
I am making. Major. His story was accepted 
apparently without question. As he told it, he 
and another pilot went out in single-seater Spads 
to act as an escort to some bombarding planes 
that were going to operate on an aerodrome. On 
their way they sighted an Albatross zigzagging 
along toward the French lines and they chased 
it. The nearest pilot fired and killed the observer, 
then looped to get below for another shot. Evi¬ 
dently he had speeded up too much, for he passed 
beyond him. The Boche quickly took advantage 
of the situation and sent a hot fire after the Spad. 
The second pilot’s machine gun had jammed, and 
all he could do was to circle around and worry 
the Boche by appearing to be maneuvering for 
position. It was all over in a minute, however. 
The disabled pilot saw a blade of his companion’s 


160 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

propeller fly into the air, then the wings buckled 
up and broke away, and the rest of the body burst 
into flames and went down. The Albatross ap¬ 
parently did not wish to continue, for it rose 
rapidly and disappeared in a cloud. 

haven’t got your point yet about the mis¬ 
taken identity,” persisted Pickering. 

‘‘Why, it simmers down to just this: the pilot 
who brought in the report got rattled. It was 
not his companion’s Spad that took part in the 
fight, but another machine altogether.” 

Major Pickering threw away his cigarette end, 
took another from his pocket, struck a match, 
and, holding the flame between his cupped hands, 
lighted the weed before he made any further re¬ 
mark. He was thinking that Colonel Merriman 
was unwarrantably credulous for a soldier sea¬ 
soned to all manner of army fables. 

“Well, where’s the other fellow been all this 
time?” he asked, tossing the match away. 

“A prisoner in Germany,” replied Merriman. 
“It appears that he had engine trouble soon after 
starting out, and fell behind the rest of the de¬ 
tail. When he got his motor going again he 
spotted a lone machine far above him making to¬ 
ward the enemy lines. He rose and had almost 
come up with him when he received a shot from 
another machine which he hadn’t spotted. His 
tank was smashed, and he had to volplane down. 
He had no choice of a landing place and he 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 


161 


crashed down, badly shaken up, into a shell hole 
inside the enemy lines. When he came to he was 
on a stretcher being carried to a prison camp. 
The strap that held him in his seat had saved 
him from being thrown out and crushed. He 
had several bullets in him, and sutfered from 
shock. The medical attention he received was 
nil. The result was that when he was released 
after the Armistice he had forgotten his own 
identity. He wandered into a French hospital, 
he doesnT recollect how, and was finally restored 
to his normal condition. Naturally when he re¬ 
turned to his family he was received like one 
risen from the dead.” 

Pickering smiled skeptically and again in¬ 
wardly wondered at the ingenuousness of this 
seasoned officer who must have been ‘Hed up” 
with extravagant and improbable tales told in 
camp, taking this very improbable one seriously. 

Merriman sensed the skepticism which Picker¬ 
ing had unconsciously expressed in his manner, 
and, slightly offended, suddenly dropped the sub¬ 
ject. 

think 1^11 take a turn around the deck,” he 
said, abruptly rising and brushing the cigar ashes 
from his uniform. 

Pickering immediately regretted having given 
cause for offense. With a desire to restore him¬ 
self to favor, he returned to the subject. 

Don’t be in a hurry,” he urged warmly. 


162 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^^That is the strangest case of blundering I have 
heard of since IVe been in the service. Do you 
happen to know the name of the man who turned 
up r ^ 

“Yes,’^ Merriman responded, a trifle coldly. 
‘‘It is Bowen. Charles Yancey Bowen, a nephew 
of Jasper Bowen, pretty well known in financial 
circles in New York.’’ 

“Charles Yancey Bowen!” exclaimed Picker¬ 
ing, turning startled, incredulous eyes on the 
speaker. “Yancey Bowen returned! Alive and 
well!” 

“There is no doubt about it,” declared Merri¬ 
man. “Why! Do you know him!” 

“Do I know him! IhneivYiim. He was a com¬ 
bat pilot in the Escadrille de Volontaires. ‘Fancy 
Bowen,’ the other pilots called him because he 
was always pulling oft fancy stunts. I have the 
evidence obtained on the spot that Yancey Bowen 
was killed near Royes-Neville—brought down in 
flames by a German Pokker. He fell just within 
the first line trenches at a spot where a rise of 
ground hid him from the enemy, otherwise they 
would have had a hard time rescuing the body. 
The other machine that went out with him, and 
whose pilot witnessed the fight was only a quarter 
of a mile away. He had fired a volley at the 
Fokker, and then his gun jammed. He said 
Bowen’s machine broke out two thousand meters 
from the ground, and he was near enough to see 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 


163 


the silver under-surface of the wings and tail 
when it began falling out of control. I have heard 
the story of that fight on the spot and at the 
time it happened, and there was no question what¬ 
ever of the identity of the man. Moreover, they 
found the plate of his machine, and there were 
other marks of identification. I can take you by 
the hand and lead you to the exact spot on the 
little farm near Royes-Neville where he is 
buried/’ insisted Pickering warmly. 

^‘You must have buried the wrong man or else 
his astral body is continuing his existence,” in¬ 
sisted Merriman, ‘^for he is certainly at his 
uncle’s home in New York now, or was there fif¬ 
teen days ago. Somewhat shattered, it is true. 
Has some trouble with his eyes, but otherwise as 
sound as a man returning from a Hun prison 
camp could be expected to be.” 

Pickering stared at the speaker as if doubting 
his sanity, but Merriman was undoubtedly speak¬ 
ing from absolute conviction. 

There are, undoubtedly, two men of the same 
name,” said Pickering, thoughtfully. ‘‘The 
Charles Yancey Bowen I knew was a combat pilot 
in the Escadrille de Yolontaires. I knew, medi¬ 
cally, every man in the squadron, and I wrote a 
personal letter to Jasper Bowen of New York 
informing him of the details of his nephew’s 
death. There can be no doubt of his death. But 
it often happens in families that two nephews 


164 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


bear the same name. It is doubtless true in this 
case/’ said Pickering, his annoyance at Merri- 
man’s insistence ebbing with the certainty that 
he had discovered an explanation to what seemed 
an extravagant tale. 

^‘But in this case, there are not two nephews 
of the same name,” declared Merriman, emphat¬ 
ically. ^‘Charles Yancey Bowen of the Escadrille 
de Volontaires, reported killed at Royes-Neville, 
is the man I am speaking of, and I assure you 
I have good authority for my statement that his 
was a case of mistaken identity.” 

He reached into his pocket and drew forth a 
packet of letters. He scrutinized the dates, and 
selected one from the packet. 

^‘My informant,” he said, ‘‘is a niece of Jasper 
Bowen, and therefore cousin to Charles Yancey 
Bowen. She is, at the present time, living under 
the same roof with him in the house of their 
Uncle Jasper. I have here her account of his 
return, of the overwhelming joy of the childless 
and infirm uncle, and the story of the imprison¬ 
ment and subsequent release of the nephew—all 
the details of the story running through several 
letters, just as I have told it to you.” 

He withdrew a closely written letter from its 
envelope and scanned it rapidly. 

“Would you like to hear the story as I learned 
it?” he asked. 


MISTAKEN IDENTITY 165 

_ V 

‘ ^ Thank yon, ’ ’ responded Pickering. ‘ ^ It would 
interest me very much.’’ 

He listened attentively and very gravely to the 
reading, tightening the muscles of his lips and 
slightly shaking his head in negation at various 
points in the recital. When it was finished he 
asked: ‘‘You know the writer of this letter well?” 

“I have the honor to be her affianced husband,” 
returned Colonel Merriman, looking Pickering 
squarely in the eye and then refolding the letter 
and replacing it with the others in his pocket. 

Pickering murmured congratulations and stam¬ 
mered out the banality that “truth is stranger 
than fiction,” then relapsed into silence. He won¬ 
dered if the handsome officer had met the girl 
overseas and had fallen a victim to boredom and 
propinquity. She was certainly “stringing him” 
with this tale. 

“Well, I think I’ll take a turn around the deck 
for exercise,” said Merriman, regretting his in¬ 
troduction of the subject, “or my uniform will 
be too small for me at the end of this voyage. 
Will you join me, Major?” he asked, pulling his 
tunic free from the wrinkles it had acquired while 
he was sitting. 

“No, thanks,” returned Pickering. “I have 
some letters to write before we land, and I think 
I’ll not put them off any longer.” 

Pickering watched the muscular figure in its 


166 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY • 

well-fitting uniform swing off with a military 
step, and he had to acknowledge that he pre¬ 
sented a handsome and dignified appearance; and 
as he recalled the bronzed face with its intense 
gray eyes under their strongly marked brows, 
set either side of a high-bridged nose, and the 
strong lines about his firm mouth, together with 
the assurance of his bearing, he found it impos¬ 
sible to believe him a man easily imposed upon. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A CONNECTING LINK 

M eanwhile the man at the rail, who had 
accidentally been within earshot of their 
voices when the two officers began talking, 
became mildly interested in the discussion. As 
the conversation proceeded and became a matter 
of controversy he moved nearer the speakers, 
where he made sure not to lose a word. At one 
point, a sudden gleam of understanding came into 
his eyes; and it was only by an effort of the 
will that he suppressed an exclamation when 
Merriman proffered the satirical remark that 
Charles Bowen’s astral body was continuing its 
existence in New York. Now and then as the 
discussion continued his keen eyes dilated, and 
once he turned and looked casually about him, 
taking in the long line of recumbent passengers, 
and then resting his eyes in one fleeting, pene¬ 
trating glance on the two officers. 

After they rose and left their seats, the stran¬ 
ger with knitted brows gazed steadily for some 
time at the changing surface of the troubled sea, 
as if he expected the thing he was searching his 

memory for to turn up from its mysterious 

167 


168 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


depths. He was evidently rewarded, for in a very 
short time he struck his closed fist on the rail 
and ejaculated: 

have it! I’m sure of it.” 

He turned and walked rapidly around the deck, 
so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly col¬ 
lided with a nurse-maid struggling with a refrac¬ 
tory child, got tangled up in a ball of yarn which 
rolled inopportunely beneath his feet from the 
lap of an industrious lady in one of the chairs; 
and finally stumbled against a steward who was 
serving a cup of hot water to a dyspeptic-looking 
individual in tweeds. He murmured abstracted 
apologies, and presently becoming aware that he 
was passing Major Pickering he paused beside 
him. 

‘‘Major Pickering I” he said. 

The Major withdrew his attention from the 
game of shuffleboard which he had been watching 
on the deck below and transferred it, in some sur¬ 
prise, to the owner of the voice. 

The stranger plunged at once into the business 
at hand. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he 
said. He reached into his pocket and produced 
from a worn leather cardcase a card which he 
otfered to the officer. 

The Major glanced at it with slight hauteur. 
“Mr. John Capwell,” he read with a rising in¬ 
flection. “I don’t seem to recall having had the 
pleasure of meeting you before.” Realizing in- 


A CONNECTING LINK 


169 


stantly tliat he couldn’t in human possibility re¬ 
member all the men whom he had encountered 
overseas, and that this one was probably some 
one he should be expected to remember, his man¬ 
ner softened and he hastened to add: ‘‘But I am 
glad to have that pleasure now,” and smiled 
pleasantly. 

“No, I don’t think you have met me before 
and you would not have met me now if I had 
not accidentally overheard your conversation just 
now about that resurrected pilot,” responded 
Capwell, returning his cardcase to his pocket. 

The Major stiffened perceptibly. 

“I just happened to be standing near you,” 
Capwell made haste to explain, “and didn’t listen 
intentionally until you reached a point where I 
scented a mystery and then my professional in¬ 
stinct got the better of my manners. I moved 
nearer where I could hear. I may as well tell 
you,” he glanced about and lowered his voice, 
“I went over in the Intelligence Corps, and when 
I got my discharge I established a private detec¬ 
tive agency of my own. I have been over on a 
little business connected with that now. I have 
been turning over the contradictory statements 
in the Bowen business and I have formulated a 
theory which I would like to lay before you if 
you will take a few minutes to listen to it.” 

Major Pickering bridled a little. 

“But I don’t take that story seriously,” he 


170 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


protested. ‘Ht is utterly impossible. I know 
what Ihn talking about. I donT know of any 
pilot except Guynemer whose death caused such 
universal regret as that of Bowen’s. The fight 
was witnessed by some artillerists as well as by 
his companion, and everything was as regular as 
Time, and I myself attended his funeral. I know 
what I’m talking about.” 

‘^So much the better,” responded the detective, 
‘^and your friend is positive he knows what he’s 
talking about. That’s what makes the case inter¬ 
esting. The surer you know he is mistaken, the 
better for our purpose. You know the man is 
dead, and he knows positively he is alive. Where 
can you find a more exciting field for my activi¬ 
ties? If you are correct, then some one is posing 
as the dead man.” 

‘‘How could a man pose in his own family? It 
is absurd on the face of it,” rather impatiently 
retorted the Major. 

“That depends on what kind of a family it is,” 
responded Capwell. “A deaf and blind old grand¬ 
mother might easily be imposed upon. How about 
this uncle you wrote to? He is probably nearest 
of kin?” 

“I didn’t know his family,” replied Pickering 
slowly. “I met him many times. There seemed 
to be no one nearer than the uncle.” 

“You don’t know whether he lived with the 
uncle?” questioned Capwell. 


A CONNECTING LINK 


171 


^‘No, He was a younger man than I. I knew 
the boys medically, and often much about them, 
but I didn’t know anything about Bowen’s family. 
You heard what Colonel Merriman said about the 
girl and of how rejoiced they were at his return. 
There seems to be no doubt in the girl’s mind, 
but, by George, it can’t be—it can't be, I tell 
you.” 

am glad to hear you stick to that,” said 
Capwell heartily. ‘^Now the girl is the only fly 
in our ointment. How can he put it across with 
her?” 

<<The girl is stringing Merriman,” exclaimed 
Pickering impatiently. 

^‘Hardly possible that a girl that Colonel Mer¬ 
riman would choose for a wife would make her 
cousin’s tragic death the subject of a practical 
joke,” Capwell objected. 

Romanticism!” scoffed the skeptical officer. 
^‘She has probably inherited the old man’s 
money, and she is testing his devotion by pre¬ 
tending to be penniless, and all that dime novel 
business.” 

The Major was disturbed and irritated at the 
thought of having the sacrificial death of the pop¬ 
ular young aviator made the subject of a penny 
dreadful mystery. 

have a theory. Major,” ventured Capwell. 
‘Ht has flaws. I’ll admit. I don’t see, as you say, 
how a stranger could keep up the deception in 



172 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

Bowen’s family; but if it could be done I know 
the man who could do it.” 

Pickering turned astonished eyes on Cap well. 

‘‘You do!” he exclaimed. 

“I think I do,” quietly asserted Capwell. He 
looked about him. The stewards were bringing 
up afternoon tea and cakes; the passengers were 
moving about, swinging rapidly around the deck 
on exercise bent. A man and a girl flushed with 
their exercise in the stitf wind paused at the rail 
beside them near enough to hear their conversa¬ 
tion. 

Capwell, profiting by his own experience, had 
no mind to let his words fall on a casually lis¬ 
tening ear. 

“I can’t tell you here. Too many people about. 
How about the upper deck?” he queried as he 
perceived that the wind had driven most of the 
passengers below. 

The Major, inwardly protesting, but half curi¬ 
ous, followed his new acquaintance to the upper 
deck and smiled derisively at his precautions to 
secure seats where they could not be overheard. 
Having satisfied himself in this respect, Capwell 
accepted a cigarette and lighted it from the glow¬ 
ing end of the Major’s. Then he began to talk. 

Major Pickering was a man with an obstinate 
turn of mind who didn’t like to have his pre¬ 
conceived notions upset. It was a little difficult, 


A CONNECTING LINK 


173 


therefore, for Capwell to inoculate him with his 
own ideas; but as he proceeded he had the satis¬ 
faction of seeing his listener’s eyes glow with 
interest. 

‘^You must be right,” he admitted. There is 
an impostor there and a devilishly clever one. 
Colonel Merriman must be convinced when you 
lay all this before him.” 

But Colonel Merriman was not so easily con¬ 
vinced. He was exceedingly skeptical at first, and 
resented the cocksureness of the detective. But 
when Pickering had again related in detail all 
that he knew personally of the circumstances of 
young Bowen’s death, and reminded him of the 
improbability of a flyer failing to identify a ma¬ 
chine in his own squadron when he was close 
enough to see the rudder break away; and called 
his attention to the fact that the plate of Bowen’s 
machine was found and that no question of his 
identity was raised at the time, nor of the good 
faith or courage of the pilot who witnessed the 
fight, Merriman was obliged to admit the prob¬ 
ability of the facts. He reread Eleanor’s letters 
and discovered in the later ones a lack of en¬ 
thusiasm for Cousin Charles. He imparted this 
discovery to the detective and read to him and 
Pickering all that part of her letters relating to 
the return and subsequent movements of the 
cousin. To the intense satisfaction of Capwell 


174 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


he elicited from the letters the knowledge that 
Eleanor had not seen Charles since they were 
children. 

‘‘Capital!” he exclaimed. “Everything com¬ 
ing our way. That is the only thing that bothered 
me. How he could put it over on a bright young 
woman who knew him. She didnH know him. 
That settles it. IVe got him. Your little game 
is up, Mr. Lazarus.” 



\ 


CHAPTER XIX 

WHO IS CHARLES BOWEN? 

W HEN, a few days later, the Aquitania 
arrived at quarantine, Merriman re¬ 
ceived a wireless message which he 
would have been at a loss to interpret had it not 
been for CapwelL It read: 

‘‘Will meet you at pier. Should we miss each 
other, do not go to Uncle Jasper’s. Come to 
Thornton and Brownley, Equitable Building.” 

“Something’s happened,” declared Capwell 
with ill-concealed satisfaction. “I know the firm 
of Thornton and Brownley. They are lawyers.” 

But they did not miss each other. Among all 
the mass of faces turned eagerly to the pier, 
Eleanor saw but one. And Colonel Merriman 
with his powerful glass identified her long before 
the mammoth liner maneuvered into her slip; and 
from that moment he saw nothing else. Miss her! 
He couldn’t have missed her if he had been a 
blind man, so unerringly would his heart have 
found her. 

And Eleanor couldn’t remember afterward just 
how it happened that they found themselves alone 
in a taxicab with her hand held tightly in his and 
all her apprehensions and fears dissolved into 

175 


176 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

joy. It was necessary for him to report imme¬ 
diately to Washington, and both were reluctant to 
be separated again, but Mrs. Thornton, whose 
guests they were, decided that they must submit 
to a temporary separation, and that he would 
return from Washington as speedily as possible 
when the wedding would take place at her house. 
Reluctantly they submitted to the plan, and made 
the most of the day that was theirs. 

Capwell’s unromantic soul chafed at the delay 
this demanded. He was eager to interview Elea¬ 
nor, and begin the chase of the impostor at once. 
But Mrs. Thornton was inexorable. The lovers 
must have their day. Unwillingly Capwell 
yielded and consoled himself by evolving a plan 
to make use of Major Pickering’s one day at his 
disposal. That officer was only too willing to 
assist in the unraveling of the mystery, for he 
treasured the memory of the heroic young aviator. 

It was with pleasure therefore that he agreed 
to intrude upon the man impersonating Charles 
Bowen and report his impressions to Capwell. 
A sleuth in CapwelPs pay produced the oppor¬ 
tunity by discovering where Bowen was wont to 
dine, and at what hour. Accordingly, just as 
Bowen had seated himself at a corner table in 
the dining-room of the Vanderbilt Hotel that eve¬ 
ning, and was studying the menu card prepara¬ 
tory to giving his order, Pickering was being ush¬ 
ered by the head waiter to the same table. At 


WHO IS CHARLES BOWEN? 


177 


first sight of the man before him, Pickering was 
almost startled out of his composure, so strikingly 
like Charles Bowen was he. His slender shoul¬ 
ders, his pose as he lighted the cigarette in his 
hand, even the gesture with which he flicked out 
the flame of the match. Surely this was Charles 
Bowen, and the report of his death was a hideous 
mistake. Pickering was on the point of joyfully 
greeting him when the man under observation 
looked at him through his amber glasses without 
giving a sign of recognition. 

Pickering dropped into the chair which the ob¬ 
sequious waiter was holding out for him, then 
studied with meticulous care the menu card placed 
in his hand. 

After giving his order, he let his eyes again 
casually fall on his vis-a-vis. Was there a change 
in the man^s manner? Some instinctive warning 
that he was under surveillance? At any rate 
there was manifest a distinct displeasure with the 
waiter for having seated a stranger at his table 
without his permission. 

Pickering felt the tension of the moment. Save 
for the amber glasses concealing the eyes, which 
should be large, and brown, and luminous, the 
man before him was Charles Yancey Bowen, erst¬ 
while combat pilot in the Escadrille de Volon- 
taires. And yet, why did he not recognize the 
officer? To be sure, he had suffered loss of mem¬ 
ory, and had wandered about in French hospitals 


178 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


and only recently recovered. Perhaps he had not 
wholly recovered. What if there were still blank 
spots in his memory? And if so what an injustice 
to the heroic young flyer to harbor suspicion of 
his identity. 

These thoughts followed one after the other 
through Pickering’s mind while he waited for his 
order to be filled. If he could only see behind 
those glasses he would know for a certainty. 
There could be no mistaking the reckless gayety 
of the large brown eyes of the incomparable flyer. 
He became obsessed with a desire to remove that 
baffling disguise. He began to speculate on what 
measures could be taken to gratify his desire. 
He might bribe the waiter to precipitate an ‘‘ac¬ 
cident”; or he might accidentally brush against 
him himself when he rose from the table. He re¬ 
jected both these methods, the former for its 
effect on the permanency of the waiter’s “job,” 
and the latter as “conduct unbecoming an officer 
and a gentleman.” Capwell, he thought, would 
have had no scruples. 

But Capwell was out of the running in this par¬ 
ticular case, because if the impostor was the man 
he suspected, Capwell was known to him and 
would have been immediately recognized. Pick¬ 
ering was just the man for the job, because he 
had known Bowen well; and if this were indeed 
Bowen, mutual recognition would follow and the 
“case” go up into thin air. 


WHO IS CHAELES BOWEN? 


179 


But no recognition of Pickering followed. In¬ 
deed, after that first glance, there was no evi¬ 
dence that he was aware of Pickering’s presence 
at the table. His manner repelled advances 
which, however, would not have deterred the offi¬ 
cer from making them if he could have overcome 
his bewilderment and could have been sure that 
this was or was not Charles Bowen. 

It didn’t seem possible to him that two men 
could be so exactly alike in form, feature, and 
gesture. There was even the chiseled chin with 
a rather deep lateral line across it. But there 
were those baffling glasses. 

He thrust the tines of a slender fork into the 
bosom of a succulent oyster, and imperiled his 
digestion by continuing to do strenuous brain 
work while consuming food. 

The fact that Bowen did not recognize him was 
not conclusive proof that the man opposite him, 
also consuming food, was not Bowen, because of 
that loss of memory. On the other hand, there 
was the overwhelming proof of the aviator’s 
death. He decided emphatically that the man 
must be an impostor and was about to rise and 
leave the table, suffocated with the thought of 
the proximity of the dastard’s presence, when the 
presumptive impostor tossed his head with a little 
gesture so peculiarly Bowen’s that it could not 
be mistaken. 

Pickering wavered again, and began to weigh 


180 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

all the evidence once more. He was engrossed 
in this occupation when he heard the sound of 
silver on a waiter’s tray. His neighbor had paid 
his bill, tipped the waiter, and was rising from 
the table. There was something lacking in the 
manner that had been Bowen’s in his treatment 
of the servant, and again Pickering vacillated. 
And so between the two convictions he wavered 
with the result that he was not so cocksure of 
Bowen’s death as he had been when Capwell first 
broached the subject on the deck of the Aquitcmia, 

Capwell was disappointed. ^‘Did you talk to 
him?” he asked that evening when they had gath¬ 
ered in Thornton’s office for reports and consul¬ 
tation. 

‘^No,” replied Pickering. didn’t. I meant 
to force myself on him and make him say some¬ 
thing, but before I had clarified my thoughts suf¬ 
ficiently he had paid his bill and gone. If he is 
an impostor, he probably left as soon as he de¬ 
cently could. I think he has been in the army.” 

‘‘He has been in the army all right enough,” 
said Capwell significantly, “and the sight of your 
uniform didn’t look good to him. He has reason 
enough not to want to be recognized by United 
States officers.” 

“Who is he anyhow?” inquired Thornton. 

“Who is he?” repeated Capwell impressively, 
“He is the most dangerous, the most unscrupu¬ 
lous and probably the cleverest criminal in the 


WHO IS CHARLES BOWEN? 181 

world to-day. He is wanted in naany places. The 
story of his swindling the cream of society in 
Austria*and Germany reads like a motion picture 
serial. In his varied career he has acted as agent 
of Ludendortf, the kaiser, the British War Office 
and other governments. In 1915 he was in this 
country engaged in German propaganda. He was 
arrested here, but escaped from a United States 
marshal, and then openly flouted the police for 
three months. Every day during that period he 
wrote to the newspapers, announcing where he 
would be at certain times during the day and 
daring the Federal officers to capture him. 

He finally disappeared from here, and turned 
up in Germany, where he took part in the Kapp 
rebellion. I got wind of him in Vienna, where 
he constantly changed his name and address. He 
was finally arrested there for selling alleged false 
documents to the Czecho-Slovakian government. 
He was freed from that charge, but was expelled 
from Austria. All the embassies of Rome were 
circularized about his movements when he dis¬ 
appeared. 

‘^For two years he was not heard from. It 
is believed that he was a spy for the German 
government during that time; and it had been 
my belief that the present state of unrest in the 
European countries was furnishing a sufficiently 
large field for his pernicious activities. But when 
I overheard the conversation between Colonel 


182 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Merriman and Major Pickering on the Aquitania 
the suspicion that he might he playing another 
role took possession of me.’’ 

‘^My God!” ejaculated Pickering. ‘‘And that 
girl has been living practically alone with him.” 

“No, not that,” hastily interposed Thornton. 
“He seems to have some of the instincts of a 
gentleman, for he had his ovm apartment at the 
Vanderbilt.” 

“At the old man’s expense, I suppose,” sug¬ 
gested Pickering. 

“Undoubtedly,” replied Thornton. 

“It’s a long drop from Berlin high-brow soci¬ 
ety to Smithville Junction,” mused Capwell, “but 
•nothing that man does surprises me. When I get 
my traps all set here, it’s me for Smithville Junc¬ 
tion.”. 


i 


CHAPTER XX 

BILL HAWKINS HAS HIS TEOUBLES 

S MITHVILLE, by grace of its being the near¬ 
est community to Globe Hollow, bad, since 
the tragedy, taken unto itself an air of great 
importance. City newspapers mentioned the 
name, Smithville Junction, in the same paragraph 
with New York itself. The Boston and Spring- 
field papers treated it seriously, whereupon the 
community threw back its shoulders and tilted its 
chin in recognition of the honor. 

The inhabitants of large cities, in spite of a 
universal belief to the contrary, are as susceptible 
to sensational events, and as demonstrative in the 
emotions aroused by them, as the dwellers in 
small places. The only difference is that in the 
cities sensations follow one another in such rapid 
succession that their impressions are speedily 
blurred and sooner forgotten. 

Smithville’s emotions had hitherto been con¬ 
fined to disapproval of the minister's sermon or 
emulation of his wife’s clothes, with an occa¬ 
sional fling at the young people’s scandalous be¬ 
havior at the Sunday-school picnic. But with the 
arrival of Charles Bowen on the day of the trag¬ 
edy, and of Bill Hawkins’s behavior since, Smith- 

183 


184 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


ville had come into its own, with the prospect 
of having a lively topic of conversation for the 
rest of its natural life. 

On the day that Charles Bowen had arrived at 
the Junction to investigate his uncle’s death, he 
had found at the station on his return from Globe 
Hollow most of the adult citizens of the village 
congregated to see with their own eyes a person 
so intimately connected with the tragedy. Con¬ 
sequently they heard the attack which Charles 
told Eleanor he had made on the cab-driver. 
Bill’s evasive manner on that occasion, together 
with the psychological effect of Charles’s subtle 
insinuations, caused the hitherto genial and pop¬ 
ular cab-driver to be gradually ostracized. 

Whenever two or three persons were gathered 
together after that they went over in detail the 
scene at the station. 

^‘Did you have any controversy with him?” the 
nephew had asked. 

Bill had declared there was no controversy. 

‘^How much did you charge him?” Bowen de¬ 
manded. 

At this point Bill was said to have hesitated. 

‘‘I ask you this because, knowing my uncle’s 
peculiarities about money matters, I suspect he 
haggled over the price and possibly refused to 
pay you. Now, am I right? Tell the truth, man.” 

Bill lighted his brier pipe, and puffed a cloud 
or two from it before he replied laconically: 


BILL HAWKINSES TROUBLES 185 


‘‘No. What do you mean? I asked you what 
you charged him, and if he refused to pay you.” 

“And I said ‘No,’ ” replied Bill. 

“I don’t like your manner, my man. You are 
afraid to look me in the eye and tell me what you 
charged him. This looks very suspicious to me, ’ ’ 
he said, turning to the bystanders. 

They hadn’t thought Bill’s manner suspicious. 
It was only what they would have done themselves 
if questioned in the dominant and somewhat the¬ 
atrical manner the bereaved nephew was employ¬ 
ing. 

“Out with it, man,” he blustered. “How much 
did you charge him?” 

“Oh, that?” said Bill. “My usual price, five 
dollars.” 

“And you say he paid it without haggling?” 
sneered Charles. “Now I know you’re lying. 
My uncle never paid anything without haggling.” 
He offered this statement to his public again. 

He had called Bill a liar, and Bill didn’t rise 
and smite him. Jo Wheeler and Jim Mooney ex¬ 
changed glances. 

“Did he offer you anything else?” he continued, 
as Bill puffed in silence. 

Bill hesitated a moment. 

“He gave me some money to buy him some 
supplies, and I bought ’em and took ’em up to 
him,” he replied. 


186 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Did you have any change left?^^ pursued 
Charles persistently. 

Bill removed the brier pipe and looked squarely 
at his inquisitor. 

“Say, mister,’^ he drawled, “you got a little 
of the old man in you, ainT you?’’ 

This was more like the real Bill. Jo Wheeler 
and his companions exchanged significant glances 
again. 

Charles retreated from his position. Public 
‘^sentiment was shifting to Bill. 

“How did you find things when you got there 
this morning? Was the fire completely out?” he, 
asked. 

‘ ‘ I think it was, ’ ’ Bill replied. ‘ ‘ The ashes may 
have been hot, but there wasn’t no blaze.” 

“How long did you stay there after you dis¬ 
covered ^^—he spoke the word with an emphasis 
designed to cast more suspicions on Bill than an 
avalanche of phrases—“the body?” 

“You can bet your boots I didn’t stay no 
longer’n I could help,” declared Bill positively. 

“Then you didn’t pick up anything or see any¬ 
thing lying around?” sharply quizzed Charles. 

“There wasn’t a blamed thing around to pick 
up,” said Bill. “Trunk, grip, man and all re¬ 
duced to ashes.” He made a grimace as though 
the subject were excessively disagreeable to him. 

“How long before you got there do you think 


BILL HAWKINSES TROUBLES 187 


the fire occurred?’’ relentlessly pursued Charles. 

Don’t ask me,” said Bill. ain’t no clair¬ 
voyant. ’ ’ 

‘‘What did you do when you made the discov¬ 
ery?” 

I made a bee-line for town in quicker 
time’n I ever made before, I can tell you.” 

“Did you get out of your car at Globe Hol¬ 
low ? ’ ’ 

A barely perceptible pause ensued before Bill 
replied: 

“I did not.” 

“No?” The tone in which Charles uttered this 
monosyllable conveyed skepticism, suspicion, and 
challenge. 

Bill shot a swift glance at his inquisitor, and 
dropped his eyes before the look he met there. 
Then he pulled himself sharply up. 

‘ ‘ Say, mister, how long did you stay there your¬ 
self ? ’Twasn’t no picnic park, now, was it? I’ll 
leave it to you,” he challenged. 

“Not unless you saw something there that was 
worth getting out of your car for. I didn’t, did 
you?” More of that accusing, contagious sus¬ 
picion. 

“There wasn’t nothing there, I tell you. All 
the old man had was his trunk and grip, and 
the frames of them was found in the ashes,” said 
Bill, with an awkward attempt at bravado. 


188 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Were you the first man on the scene of the 
tragedy?’’ Charles was not yet ready to let go 
of his subject. 

“I might have been, and then again, I might 
not,” said Bill. “As I told you before, I ain’t 
no clairvoyant, and I didn’t find no visiting card; 
but I was the man that brought the news to town, 
if that’s what you mean.” 

“To whom did you bring the news?” 

“I met Doc Gray just the other side of the 
village and I told him; and he told me to get the 
coroner.” 

“Did you get him?” 

“Yes, I got him,” admitted Bill. 

‘ ‘ Then did you drive back to Globe Hollow with 
him?” 

“No, he had his own rig.” 

“Then, where did you go?” 

Bill was getting very restless under this inqui¬ 
sition, but his inquisitor was relentless. 

“I took a party over to the Normal School,” 
he drawled. 

“And after that?” 

“I went home, and now I’m here,” he replied 
caustically. 

Charles had managed to make Bill appear to 
be concealing something. It was very apparent 
to those who knew him that he knew more than 
he was telling. 


BILL HAWKINS’S TROUBLES 189 

Charles drew on his gloves. He paused in the 
act of buttoning them to say: 

‘^Then you know nothing about the large sum 
of money my uncle carried with him?” 

Bill turned a dull red. 

^‘I saw him put a roll of bills in his pocket the 
last thing before I came away,” he replied sul¬ 
lenly. 

^‘And you never saw them again? Think a 
moment. Think hard.” 

Jo expected to see the usually belligerent Bill 
Hawkins rise and slay the man whose very tone 
was an insult. Instead, he flushed a dull red which 
flamed on his big neck and ears, and turned on 
his heel, saying resentfully; 

‘^I ain’t no prisoner in the dock. What right 
you got to ask me questions? I’m done.” 

He turned and sprang into his car and drove 
rapidly away. A gleam of something—^was it 
satisfaction, triumph?—flashed swiftly over 
Charles’s face and was as quickly gone. 

When, later, Bill was as uncommunicative to 
his fellows as he had been to the nephew, whis¬ 
pers began to circulate. They passed from lip 
to lip, and the story grew and grew until Bill 
was definitely suspected by all and sundry of mur¬ 
dering the old man and concealing the deed by 
disposing of the body in the flames. 

But what they did not know was that Bill after 


190 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTEKY 


his discovery of the body had walked the floor 
late into the night in troubled meditation. He 
smoked innumerable pipes of tobacco and ex¬ 
hausted his extensive vocabulary of profanity 
used in all its varying combinations. He finally 
put on his hat, and cautiously left the house. 
A careless neighbor had left a spade lying in 
his garden. Bill, avoiding the gravel path and 
stepping softly on the grass, cautiously secured 
the spade. Then he entered his garage, and felt 
in the darkness for something hidden beneath the 
cushions of his car. His hand trembled slightly 
as he drew forth a roll of bills. He quickly placed 
them in a tobacco box from which he emptied 
tacks and odds and ends of things, and disap¬ 
peared into the darkness. He returned later with 
a somewhat relieved mind, for one cause of his 
trouble lay buried beneath the foot of an oak tree 
a mile and a half from BilPs house. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A LUMBEEMAN VISITS GLOBE HOLLOW 

I N’ the days that followed there was no more 
jolly camaraderie among the cab-drivers at 
the Junction. Whenever Bill appeared, con¬ 
versation dropped and he ceased joining the 
group. He would drive up at the last minute, 
take his fare if he secured one and drive imme¬ 
diately away. ^ 

One morning he jumped out of his taxi as usual 
just as the passengers were alighting from the 
train. His quick eye saw that there were few 
fares this morning, and probably none for him, 
for he had lost his grip. Somehow he couldn’t 
crowd the other fellows out and capture a fare 
by his catchy tricks of manner as was his wont. 
It was therefore with indifference that he watched 
a stranger alight with a little difficulty and look 
around him for a cab. To his surprise the man 
walked past the nearby cabs with their impor¬ 
tuning drivers and scanned his closed car. 

^^Ah, you have a closed car. That’s just what 
I want. You see I suffer from rheumatism and 
I don’t want to risk getting wet. The wind is 

in the east and that’s a sure sign of rain.” 

191 




/ 


192 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Bill skeptically scanned the cloudless horizon, 
but had no mind to pose as a local weather bureau. 
He opened the door of the cab and stepped back 
for his fare to enter. 

“If you don’t mind,” the stranger said, “I’d 
like to sit in front with you. I’m a lumber buyer 
and maybe you could point out some good wood 
lots on the way. I want to go to Enright’s lum¬ 
ber mill. I suppose you know" the way.” 

“Sure I do,” said Bill, brightening. He men¬ 
tally registered ten dollars for the trip. “It’s 
about nine miles from here.” 

The stranger proved to be somewhat of a bore, 
for he talked incessantly on the way about the 
price of lumber before and since the war and 
gave statistics that made Bill’s head swim. Be¬ 
sides Bill had other thoughts as he drove along 
the same rutty, little used road over which he 
had carried Jasper Bowen to his doom. 

As they came in sight of Globe Hollow, the 
stranger exclaimed: 

“They’ve cut the lumber off this place pretty 
close, I see. I’d like to get out here and see 
what kind of trees they mostly get and what kind 
of a job of cutting they’ve done.” 

Bill stopped and the stranger dismounted. 
“Had a fire up here, I see,” he commented. 
“Anybody been cutting up here lately!” 

“No,” replied Bill, “that’s where that old man 
got burned to death.” 


A LUMBERMAN’S VISIT 193 

‘ ‘ Oh, I read something about that in the paper. 
What was his name, now! I forget.” 

‘‘Jasper Bowen,” said Bill, turning his back 
to the ruins and fixing his eyes on the blue hills 
across the valley. 

“Yes, I recollect now,” said the stranger cheer¬ 
fully. “How did it happen!” 

Bill reluctantly and shortly related the details 
so distasteful to him, but so evidently relished by 
the curious stranger. The latter prowled about 
the burnt cabin with disgusting curiosity. Bill 
thought, although he had to admit that his obser¬ 
vation was keener than that displayed by the cor¬ 
oner’s jury. 

“He must have built an enormous fire,” the 
lumberman remarked, “judging by all these ends 
of regular cord wood. Got it from away over 
yonder from that pile, too,” he observed, measur¬ 
ing the distance with his eye. “Must have been 
a husky old fellow to have dragged that wood all 
that way. What would you say! Pretty husky, 
was he, eh!” he inquired. 

“Yes,” Bill admitted, “he was husky enough; 
only thing out about him was his crazy notions.” 

“Oh, he had crazy notions, had he! How do 
you mean, crazy!” 

Bill explained that any man was crazy who 
chose such a place to spend a night. 

“Didn’t I hear about his having a considerable 
sum of money with him!” 


194 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Yes,’’ said Bill, “and I might as well tell 
you that that nephew practically charges me with 
murdering the old man for his money and then 
settin’ fire to the shack to cover up the crime.” 

“And did you?” said the stranger, suddenly 
turning his eyes full upon Bill. 

“God, no,” said Bill, shrinking instinctively 
from the penetrating gaze. 

“No, sir, never. I got a good name except I’m 
accounted pretty sharp on a horse trade. But 
then the other feller alius had just as good a 
chance at lyin’ as I had, and the odds was even 
anyhow.” 

“No chance of his getting you arrested, I sup¬ 
pose? Just throwing out hints, is he?” 

“I dunno about that. I don’t mind tollin’ you 
I’m scared stiff. There’s evidence enough to 
prove that somebody done it, but I ain’t tollin’ 
it. I ain’t collectin’ evidence for to hang myself, 
not so’s you could notice it.” 

The lumberman manifested a friendly interest 
in the driver’s predicament. 

“Why don’t you get a lawyer and tell him what 
you know?” he suggested. 

“I’m afraid to. Gosh dang it! Lawyers are 
out to make money. If I show up enough money 
to retain a lawyer, they’ll take that for proof that 
I stole it otf the old man,” Bill explained. 

“I guess you’re right there, especially if you 
retain one of these local lawyers who are already 


A LUMBERMAN’S VISIT 195 

prejudiced by the rumors. Why don’t you go to 
a city lawyer!” 

‘‘Don’t know none of ’em, and don’t know as 
I could trust ’em if I did,” said Bill. “I been 
wonderin’ what to do. I reckon if I should try 
to board a train from here I’d be arrested. Every 
stranger I see I suspect he’s an officer. Thought 
you was one of them detectives at first.” 

The lumberman laughed. “I haven’t much use 
for detectives myself,” he said. “I’m like you 
with your horse trade. The lumber business calls 
for a little harmless lying now and then, and I 
agree with you that there’s a long shot between 
being a little sharp in a business deal and killing 
a harmless old man for his money.” 

“God, yes,” said Bill, “but that don’t help me 
none. I’m suspected and them detectives can run 
you down like bloodhounds. I’ve read about that 
there Sherlock Holmes feller, and what he 
couldn’t do was a caution. Why, if you spit out 
a chaw of terbaccar a mile and a half away from 
the scene of the crime he could tell how many 
front teeth you’d lost and how old your grand¬ 
mother was when she died. Gosh, it keeps me 
awake nights all right enough. ’ ’ 

“Well, if you have evidence against somebody 
else, why don’t you give it up and free yourself 
from suspicion? That ought to be dead easy.” 

“But it don’t free me, that’s the hell of it. 
Why, stranger, I could go out in a ten acre lot 


196 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


all by myself and be the judge and jury, and the 
hangman, and try, and sentence, and hang myself 
all in good and regular order without no recom¬ 
mendation for mercy on the evidence IVe got; 
and no higher court could find a flaw in the pro¬ 
ceedings. And yet, I tell you, I didn’t kill the 
old man. But there was some crooked business 
there, I’m dead sure.” 

‘‘You are getting me quite interested in this 
affair,” said the stranger. “Any objection to 
telling me confidentially what you’ve got?” 

Bill cast a sidelong glance at the stranger. His 
eyes narrowed, and a look of caution came over 
his face. 

“Nothin’ doin’ on that line, mister. I ain’t 
agoin’ to tell nobody.” 

“But suppose I should turn out to be a reg¬ 
ular detective, and give away what you’ve already 
told me ? ’ ’ suggested the lumberman. 

“I should just say you’d lied, and put it up 
to you to get the evidence. Got any yet? Know 
where to go to get it?” Bill challenged. 

The stranger laughed good-naturedly. “No, of 
course not, but seriously, Mr.—I forget what you 
said your name was ? ’ ’ 

“Hawkins. Bill Hawkins. You can call me 
Bill. Most folks does.” 

“Well, then. Bill, let me give you some advice. 
Those detectives, as you say, will never let up 
until they get what they’re after. If you are 


A LUMBERMAN’S VISIT 197 

innocent, you need a lawyer who knows all you 
know, and who will be in ahead of those fellows 
and have your end all fixed before they even get 
on your trail. They’ll surely get you. More men 
are sent to the chair on circumstantial evidence 
than on the testimony of eyewitnesses, you know 
that as well as I do. The fact that you know 
something that you are concealing looks as though 
you had a motive for not coughing it up, and what 
other motive could you have than to protect your¬ 
self? And why protect yourself if you are inno¬ 
cent—unless you are protecting some one else?” 
he added sharply, again fixing on Bill those dis¬ 
turbing eyes which Bill instinctively felt were 
more accustomed to appraise men than lumber. 

‘‘No, I ain’t protectin’ the guilty party,” said 
Bill unflinchingly. “I don’t know who he is; but 
there was somebody besides the old man up there 
that night—and it wasn’t me.” 

“Well, all I have to say is, I’d hate to be in 
your shoes,” said the lumberman. “Of course 
you’re a stranger to me and I don’t know why 
I should care whether you swing for it, or another 
man. But I never knew a man before—that is 
to say really talked to a man, and sat beside him 
like I’m sitting beside you now, that was exe¬ 
cuted. It isn’t in my line. I suppose chaplains 
and prison wardens and all those fellows get used 
to it, but I’m not hardened to it.” He shook his 
head solemnly. “I’m dead sure when I read in 



198 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


my morning paper a few months from now ‘Bill 
Hawkins paid the penalty of his crime at 1.08 this 
morning protesting his innocence to the last/ I 
can’t read it without feeling strange. You see, 
having known you, got real well acquainted and 
friendly as it were, confidential even like when 
we swapped confessions about lying a little in our 
business, it’ll make me picture the whole scene— 
the death cell where you waited for the summons, 
the last call and all the trappings of the electric 
chair—the first voltage maybe not doing its work 
—only making you twitch—” 

“Good God, man! Stow it,” shouted Bill, the 
cold sweat breaking out on his body. 

“Oh, excuse me,” apologized the stranger, effu¬ 
sively. “I didn’t mean to upset your nerves. I 
thought a man with the nerve you have wouldn’t 
mind hearing such a common story as that. It 
happens every day.” 

“It don’t happen to me every day,” said Bill. 

“Well, it’s going to happen to you now, you 
mark my words and remember them, too, when 
they are hitching the straps on you in your last 
hour—if you don’t do something right now, to 
save yourself.” 

Bill stared straight ahead without speaking, 
and the stranger did not interrupt his thoughts. 
Occasionally his lips would tighten and a negative 
shake of the head indicate that he was rejecting 


A LUMBERMAN’S VISIT 199 

the thought which presented itself. Finally he 
spoke: 

“I can’t make up my mind to tell anything to 
the police or any kind of a detective. They’d 
sure send me to the chair, and I got a fightin’ 
chance by keeping still.” 

‘‘Not a ghost of a chance,” affirmed the lum¬ 
berman. “Remember Sherlock Holmes. You’ve 
left some clew by which they’ll trace'you. En¬ 
gage a lawyer, tell him all you know, and he’ll 
do the rest. You’re lost if you don’t, I swear it.” 

Bill brightened at some recollection. 

“Them criminal lawyers, I guess, are sharp 
enough for them smart detectives. I dunno—if 
I knew one I could trust—I dunno but I would 
take a chance on it.” 

“That’s your best bet,” said the stranger 
heartily, “and you want to take the first train 
out. I’m taking that train myself. I’ll give you 
the name of the best criminal lawyer in the city. 
You can see him to-night.” 

Bill’s inhibitions presented themselves again. 

“But they’ll arrest me, sure, if I try to leave. 
It’ll look like I’m running away.” 

“We’ll fix that all right,” said the stranger. 

And they did, with the result that just as the 
afternoon train was pulling out of the station 
Bill’s taxi dashed madly up, and his fare sprang 
towards the train. Bill following on the run with 


200 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


the grip. They both swung on to the steps, and 
the train glided ont of sight before the group 
collected about the station realized that Bill had 
been accidentally carried away. 


CHAPTER XXII 




BILL RELIEVES HIS MIND 

N eedless to say, the lawyer chosen for 
Bill by the friendly stranger was Thorn¬ 
ton. By the time they reached the city the 
stranger had ingratiated himself to such an ex¬ 
tent that Bill allowed himself to be conducted to 
the office by him, Bill, however, shrewdly insisting 
that they look up the record of the firm before 
he parted with his knowledge. Finding it per¬ 
fectly satisfactory, he bade good-by to his com¬ 
panion in the corridor of the office building, and 
took the first elevator up. It was only when the 
elevator had started that he remembered that he 
had not asked the friendly stranger his name, an 
oversight which he regretted, for he would like 
to continue their friendly relations. 

The stranger, however, was not far away. He 
waited a moment only, and then took another ele¬ 
vator to the same floor. 

Bill liked the lawyer at once. Xo gol-darned 
airs about him. ‘^Why, it was just as easy to talk 
to him as Twas to home folks,” he declared after¬ 
wards. 

And, indeed, he talked to such purpose that his 

erstwhile traveling companion, listening in on an 

201 


202 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

instrument in an adjoining room, slapped his knee 
frequently to express his joyful satisfaction. 

Mr. Thornton encouraged Bill to begin at the 
time the old man left the train, and tell in minute 
detail every event from that time until the end. 
From time to time, an office boy entered the room 
with a note, which Thornton opened and read 
casually and then tore into bits and threw into the 
waste basket. The man in the adjoining room 
presently heard Bill answering the question which 
had been in the note. 

^^No, he was not what you’d call feeble,” he re¬ 
plied once after the note had been so dispatched. 
‘‘Not feeble as you’d think. That is, he stepped 
briskly along the platform and he got out of the 
taxi at Globe Hollow quicker’n I could. He was 
just loony, that’s all. Asked me if I had a bother¬ 
some niece—and then there was all that money,” 
continued Bill, lowering his voice. 

“Ah, yes, it was the money that drew suspicion 
on you, wasn’t it?” said Thornton. “How much 
do you think he had? The newspapers always 
exaggerate. They said he had ten thousand dol¬ 
lars, but that isn’t probable', although he did draw 
a ten thousand dollar check payable to himself 
that day.” 

Bill shifted his position a bit and cleared his 
throat. 

“Well, probable or not, that’s just what he did 
have,” he said. 


BILL BELIEVES HIS MIND 203 

^^How do you know that?’’ 

‘'That’s what I’ve traveled down here to tell 
you about,” said Bill. He looked cautiously about 
the room, and lowered his voice. “I know—’cause 
I’ve got it.” 

“You!” exclaimed Thornton, startled out of 
his calm by this unexpected statement, while the 
man at the instrument forgot in his surprise to 
slap his knee. 

“Ye-ah. 1 got it,” reaffirmed Bill. “That’s 
what’s troublin’ me. If I had minded my own 
darn business, and not tried to play the Good 
Samaritan or something like that,” Bill was a 
little confused about the Good Samaritan, but 
he connected it with stopping to meddle with 
something which was none of his darn business, 
“why, then, I’d been all right.” 

“And you have the money,” repeated Thorn¬ 
ton, “no wonder you were scared. Now, how are 
you going to account for having possession of 
it?” 

“I ain’t agoing to account for it, that’s why 
I come to you. I’ll tell you how I got it, and 
you’ve got to put up the story to account for it,” 
said Bill eagerly. 

“Well, go on. How did you get it?” 

“It’s this way,” began Bill. “After I got 
home that night I kept thinking about the nutty 
old fellow, and I felt kinda mean about leavin’ 
him up there. The fellows at the station bet me 


204 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


that nobody would ride in my new bus, and they’d 
have the laugh on me if I brought him back; 
so I left him up there at Globe Hollow just on 
the edge of night. But I felt mean about it, I 
did. So ’bout 12 o’clock I just got my taxi out 
and sneaked out.” 

‘^You sneaked out? Wliy did you sneak 
out?” 

^^So the fellows wouldn’t have the laugh on 
me,” said Bill honestly. 

‘‘Well, go on. You went to Globe Hollow?” 

“I did. And when I got there, the shack was 
burned down. The flames was kinda shootin’ up 
now and then, and I could see what had happened. 
The old man had gone in there and built a fire 
and fell asleep. It was all over. There was 
nothing for me to do but go back and tell the cor¬ 
oner. I was just turning away from the sickenin’ 
sight when my eye caught something shining on 
the ground. I stooped over and picked it up and 
it was a fancy match case. Now, what was the 
match case doin’ away off there? Then I looked 
a little closer, and there on the ground I found 
the roll of money. It looked as though they had 
dropped out of his pocket when he was undress¬ 
ing. But what in thunder did he undress for to 
sleep in that place? And if he lost his match box 
when he undressed, how could he light his fire 
away over in the shack? ‘By the Jumpin’ Frogs,’ 
I said, ‘somebody’s been here besides the old 


BILL RELIEVES HIS MIND 


205 


man. ’ Then I went over and looked at the shack 
again. The iron framework of the trunk was red 
hot and all twisted; and lyin’ right inside that 
framework as it seemed to me was the hones of 
the old man. Now, how in thunder could that 
happen ?’ ’ 

^‘How did the coroner’s jury account for it?” 
he asked. 

^‘Somebody must have poked around there be¬ 
fore they come, for they never seemed to notice 
it. Just took for granted the old man had built 
a fire and set fire to hisself and that was the ver¬ 
dict they brought in.” 

‘‘And you didn’t otfer any testimony contrary 
to that at the time?” 

“Sure, I didn’t,” said Bill. “They didn’t ask 
me, and ’twasn’t my funeral. It’s easy enough 
to see what you ought to have done when it’s 
too late,” he continued. “Now, if I’d ’a’ left the 
money there, and gone down to the village and 
give the alarm, why, ’twould have been all right; 
but who’d ever believe I found a roll of ten thou¬ 
sand dollars right out in the open? I thought I 
better take it with me, and then on the way I gotta 
thinkin’ what a fishy story that sounded an’ then 
I began gettin’ scared they’d think I killed the 
old man and that maybe they’d think there was 
more money an’ I’d give this much up to cover 
up the rest; an’ I says to myself, ‘Bill, you just 
naturally keep out of it, if you can.’ ” 


206 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘^And where is the money now?’’ asked Thorn¬ 
ton. 

‘ ‘ I got it buried and I wish to hell it would rot, ’ ’ 
said Bill,, fervently. scared the winded blow 

the tree up by the roots—a specially ordained hur¬ 
ricane just for the purpose of showing up my 
damn poor judgment; or a woodchuck 11 dig a 
hole there, or in some blamed way that money 
turn up. I ain’t had a grease-cup full of luck 
sence I bought that taxi.” 

^‘What has your taxi got to do with it?” 

“Well, I ain’t say in’, but if I hadn’t done a 
little sharp dealin’ in the horse tradin’ I never 
would have had the taxi. I’m done being crooked, 
I am. Lord, if this is the way crooks put in 
their off time I don’t envy ’em.” 

Bill could sit still no longer. He rose and 
shook himself. 

The office boy entered with another scrap of 
paper. Thornton opened it and after reading 
said: 

“Did you bury the match-safe with the 
money?” 

“No, I got that in my pocket.” 

He thrust his big hand into his trousers pocket 
and drew forth a jeweled case of foreign work¬ 
manship. 

“Better leave it with me,” said Thornton, 
scrutinizing it carefully. 


BILL RELIEVES HIS MIND 207 

‘ ‘ Take it and welcome, ’ ^ said Bill. ‘ ‘ I wish you 
had the money too.’’ 

‘‘No, you let the money stay where it is. On 
no account go near it. If you are suspected you 
are probably watched. Don’t touch it until you 
get a word from me. And now I want to intro¬ 
duce you to a friend of mine, a man in whom I 
have the utmost confidence, who will look after 
your interests in this case and be the best friend 
you ever had.” 

The door swung open, and Capwell entered. 

Bill stood confounded; but before he could give 
expression to his feelings the lumberman was 
slapping him on the shoulder and shaking hands 
heartily, at the same time laughing at the dis¬ 
comfited cabman. 

“It’s all in the day’s work. Bill. You’ll thank 
me for playing this trick on you some day; for 
there ain’t going to be no electric chair for you, 
nor any big head lines about ‘protesting your 
innocence to the last.’ We’ll get the drop on the 
right man now, and thanks to you. Bill, thanks to 
you.” 

Bill’s confidence was restored by the renewed 
slapping on the shoulder and they left the law¬ 
yer ’s office arm in arm. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

OLD jasper’s bedroom 


110-DAY is Friday, Ann,” said Dennis, 
I emerging from the pantry with his usual 
Friday morning tray of silver. “Have 
you polished the Queen Anne silver tanker yet?” 

‘ ‘ Have I polished the Queen Anne silver tanker 
yet, says you, Dennis Mahoney. Sure, ’tis a par¬ 
rot you might as well be, and done with it. Ten 
years and more have I been livin’ with you, and 
never a Friday morning have you missed sayin’, 
^ Have you polished the Queen Anne silver tanker 
yet?’ Moreover, what’s the good of polishin’ the 
silver at all when there’s nobody to use it?” re¬ 
plied Ann. 

“That’s true for you,” said Dennis, depositing 
the tray on the kitchen table. ^ ‘ ’Twas a pleasure 
to polish it for Miss Eleanor, though there was 
little enough on it at any time, I’m bound to say. 
I wonder when will Mr. Charles come here to 
live entirely.” 

“May the divil fly away with him before ever 
he comes here to live in the place of Miss Elea¬ 
nor,” said Ann warmly. 

“I’ll say Amen to that right enough,” said 

Dennis heartily. “My God, there’s the doorbell,” 

208 


OLD JASPER’S BEDROOM 


209 


he ejaculated, dropping the spoons with a start. 

‘ ‘ Get your coat on you, man, and compose your 
countenance! Can’t a visitor ring the doorbell 
without you jumpin’ as though you’d heard the 
Banshee?” In truth Ann was as startled as Den¬ 
nis, but she was quicker to regain her composure. 

Dennis opened the door to a man wearing the 
uniform of the Salvation Army who inquired for 
Mr. Bowen—Mr. Jasper Bowen. 

‘‘I’m sorry to inform you, sir,” said Dennis, 
“that Mr. Jasper Bowen is dead entirely.” 

The visitor manifested surprise at this. He 
had hoped to get a contribution from him for 
the Salvation Army. Perhaps some other mem¬ 
ber of the family would see him. 

“There’s no one here at present,” explained 
Dennis. “The heir has not yet taken up his res¬ 
idence here.” 

“Will he be likely to be here this morning?” 
urged the visitor. “I could come in and wait.” 

“He’s not likely to be in,” said Dennis firmly. 
“He gave me orders not to let any one in until 
he came himself.” 

“Are you sure he will not be here this morn¬ 
ing?” persisted the visitor. 

“I’m sure you’d have a long wait, sir, for he 
seldom comes now, and never in the morning,” 
explained Dennis. 

The visitor glanced swiftly up and down the 
street and then back at Dennis. 


210 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

‘‘Let me in, Dennis. I have a message from 
Miss Eleanor,” he said in a low tone. 

He had pronounced the Open Sesame. The 
door swung wide, Dennis slipped back and the 
stranger entered. 

“Who is in the house now?” he asked quickly. 

“Nobody, sir, but Ann and myself,” said Den¬ 
nis. 

“Good,” said the stranger. He drew from his 
pocket an unsealed letter which he handed to 
Dennis. 

“Here is a letter from Miss Eleanor asking you 
to follow my directions. Now, I want you to let 
me examine the room Mr. Jasper Bowen last 
occupied. ’ ’ 

“I have no key, sir,” said Dennis, holding the 
letter reverently in his hands. “Mr. Bowen took 
it with him. ’Twas a new-fangled lock he had put 
on and the pass key won’t open it.” 

“When did he have it put on? After Mr. 
Charles came?” queried the visitor. 

“Yes, sir. It was indeed,” admitted Dennis. 

“Well, let us not waste any time. You show 
me the room and you and Ann can read your let¬ 
ter afterward. I can open the door without a 
pass key.” 

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir. I must ask Ann 
first.” 

“All right,” laughed the stranger, “only be 
quick about it.” 


211 


OLD JASPER’S BEDROOM 

Dennis soon returned with Ann’s enthusiastic 
consent. Miss Eleanor wished it. Ergo, let 
it be done. 

Dennis viewed with wonder the dexterity with 
which his visitor opened the lock, ‘‘Just like a 
crook,” he thought. “But sure them Salvation 
Army men are all ex-crooks, I’ve been told, and 
this one’s not long been reformed, I’m thinkin’, 
or he wouldn’t be so expert.” 

The door swung open, and together they en¬ 
tered the room lately occupied by the master of 
the house. The stranger gave a sweeping glance 
around and then began a detailed examination of 
the room. The bed was unmade, the bedclothes 
thrown carelessly over the footboard and trail¬ 
ing on the floor. The stranger tried a closet 
door. 

“Locked,” he said. “Why did he keep it 
locked?” 

“Pie didn’t,” said Dennis in surprise. 

“But it is locked now and with one of your 
new-fangled locks,” said the disguised Capwell, 
his swift fingers already manipulating the keys 
which he had brought with him. 

“There we are,” he said as the bolt flew 
back. “Now, let’s see what we have here; clothes 
to go away with, eh?” 

“No, sir,” said Dennis, bewildered. “He 
hadn’t time to get new clothes. These same are 
all the clothes he had at all.” 


212 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


^‘Why didiiT you put them in his trunk then?^’ 
said the visitor. 

didn’t pack his trunk, sir. Mr. Charles 
did that—and what Mr. Jasper would have said 
when he found out this flesh brush was left out 
I can’t say, sir. He always had it in his hand.” 
Dennis had turned, and with the brush in his 
hand walked to the dressing table. ‘‘And, oh, 
wurra, Mr. Charles! Wouldn’t he have disin¬ 
herited you on the spot when he found this hair 
brush missin ’ f Sorra another brush would he let 
me use on him, sir—and this comb—they’re what 
you use for babies. His hair was that thin and his 
scalp so tender. Glory be,” he exclaimed as he 
continued his examination, “he’s not put in any¬ 
thing for the poor old man to use.” 

He pulled open bureau drawers. 

“Oh, ’tis well for you, then, Mr. Charles, that 
your uncle never lived to find out the way you 
treated him. There’s never a shirt gone, sir, nor 
a sock.” He pulled open drawer after drawer. 
‘ ‘ ’Tis little enough the old man had, sir, and that 
badly worn itself; but such as it is, ’tis all here 
—not a thing gone—not even a handkerchief it¬ 
self. Oh, Mr. Charles, Mr. Charles, what was you 
thinkin’ of to treat the poor old man like that? 
Why, he couldn’t have had a thing but what he 
wore. Here’s even his slippers and his dressing 
gown. ’ ’ 

Dennis was passing about the room, more and 



OLD JASPER’S BEDROOM 213 

more distressed with, each new discovery of an 
omission in the packing. After one final compre¬ 
hensive survey he burst forth: 

‘^What in God’s name was in the trunk, then, 
sir? Sure, there’s not a single thing missin’— 
not a slither of anything.” 

‘‘Sure there’s nothing missing from the room?” 
inquired the visitor. “Look sharp and see if 
there’s not something missing.” 

Dennis looked about. 

“Not a thing,” he said. “There’s nothing 
missin’ but himself and the grouch he had on 
him of late—God forgive me for speakin’ like 
that of the poor old man who’s dead and gone 
to glory—God rest his soul.” 

Capwell was standing by the unmade bed, his 
eyes resting on the trailing bedclothes. 

“Was the old man in the habit of having only 
one sheet on his bed?” he asked. 

“Sure he had two sheets,” said Dennis, ap¬ 
proaching the bed, “and good linen ones at that.” 
He began to remove the bedclothes, continuing 
until the bed was stripped. Then he replaced 
them one by one, but he could find only one sheet. 

“Sure Mr. Charles must have been daft when 
he packed the trunk. What could he be wantin’ 
with a sheet I’d like to know?” 

“Then so far as you know there could have been 
nothing else from this room placed in the trunk?” 
asked Capwell. 



214 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘H’d swear it, sir. I know everything the old 
man had, and it is all here, every stick, stone and 
hair of it. Even his hat and coat for that matter, 
for the queer-looking cape and hat he wore away 
Mr. Charles bought for him at the last minute. 
He insisted on having them, Mr. Charles said.’’ 

‘‘H’m, I think I understand,” said the visitor 
with evident satisfaction. quite understand,” 
he repeated. 

Well, if you do you have one on me,” muttered 
Dennis. 

‘^Now, then,” questioned Capwell, ‘‘what hap¬ 
pened the morning he made his will?” 

Dennis, aided by frequent promptings, related 
the occurrences of the morning. When he came 
to the point of Charles’ entrance and their visit 
to old Jasper’s room, Capwell’s interruptions 
grew more frequent. He often made Dennis re- 
' peat his statements several times. 

“Did you enter the room at all that morning?” 
he asked. 

“No, sir, not to say enter,” replied Dennis. “I 
went up and stood without in the hall, while Mr. 
Charles went in.” 

“But you said the old man spoke to you,” re¬ 
minded Capwell. 

“So he did, sir. He threatened to break every 
bone in my body—and I thinkin’ he hadn’t the 
strength to break a match—if I came near him 
before I was sent for.” 


OLD JASPER’S BEDROOM 215 

‘‘Are you,sure that was after he went back ta 
his room?” 

“Sure it was, sir, and before too, for that mat¬ 
ter, while he was draggin’ his poor old body up 
the stairs.” 

“Just how did he look when he said it the 
last time, and whereabouts in the room was 
he?” 

Dennis gently scratched his ear and considered. 

“I can’t rightly say I saw him—not to say I 
really saw him, because Mr. Charles was block¬ 
ing up the doorway between us.” 

Cap well’s eye lighted with satisfaction at this 
statement. 

“Couldn’t you see into the room enough to tell 
whether he was sitting up or lying down?” he 
asked eagerly. 

Dennis resorted to the ear again and again 
considered. 

“Come to think of it, sir, I could not see into 
the room. Mr. Charles was standing like this”— 
he placed the door ajar—“and beyond there just 
a little to the left—if you don’t mind stepping into 
the hall I’ll show you the exact way of it.” 

Capwell promptly went into the hall, and Den¬ 
nis reconstructed the tableau showing the rela¬ 
tive positions of himself and Charles on the morn¬ 
ing in question. Capwell was satisfied that it 
would be a physical impossibility for Dennis to 
see any person inside the room. 


216 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


“Now, then, did you hear any voices inside 
after the door was closed T’ he asked eagerly. 

“Well, yes, sir. I’m free to say I did hear 
voices, for I didn’t go directly downstairs. I 
went and closed the window beyond in the hall; 
and when I passed the door on my way down I 
' heard them talking.” 

“Who was talking?” 

^ ‘ The both of them were talking. First I heard 
Mr. Charles saying something in the funny way 
he has with him, although I couldn’t hear what 
he was talking about; and then I heard the old 
man say something and then he laughed. You 
couldn’t mistake that laugh, sir,” Dennis af¬ 
firmed feelingly. “No, sir.” 

“And then, again, you might,” said Capwell 
slowly. “Did you ever hear of ventriloquism, 
Dennis?” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE JEWELED MATCH-BOX 

H aving learned from Demiis all the details 
of the acute and nearly fatal attack of the 
old man on the day preceding the making 
of the will, and convinced himself that Dennis 
had never seen uncle and nephew together after 
that event, Capwell demanded to be shown the 
room where the will was made. 

‘‘He was sitting yonder at that desk when I 
came in,’’ said Dennis. “The room so dark itself 
I could hardly see him.” 

‘ ‘ What made it dark ? ’ ’ said Capwell. ‘ ‘ Hadn’t 
you drawn the shades that morning?” 

“Come to think of it, I believe I had,” said 
Dennis. “Now that you remind me of it. Queer 
thing for him to make the room dark when he 
wanted to be readin’ something. Well, sir, if 
you’ll believe me, one thing was as quare as an¬ 
other them days. You can’t be pickin’ out any 
one thing and sayin’, ‘This was quarer nor that.’ 
They was all quare alike, and that I do be tellin’ 
you.” 

“Tell me some more queer things,” urged Cap- 
well. 

“Well, you know how it was dyin’ he was the 

day before, and Mr. Charles that scared he was 

217 


218 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


dyin’ on his hands that he looked like a corpse 
himself, and the doctor sayin’ he could never sur¬ 
vive another attack and he likely to have that 
same soon; and then he ups and comes down¬ 
stairs all by himself, and he talkin’ about fhe 
fountain of youth and all that; and he makin’ his 
will and he near to takin’ the head off the lawyer 
when he came nigh him with the paper to sign; 
and he motionin’ him back and makin’ me bring 
the paper—” 

What’s that about the paper? He wouldn’t 
let the lawyer come near him?” interrupted Cap- 
well. 

‘‘Sorry a bit nearer than this,” Dennis indi¬ 
cated their positions, “and he wouldn’t let me 
watch him when he was signin’ his name, though 
I could scarce keep from going to him for fear 
he’d fall off his chair itself, and he that sick only 
the day before I had to feed him with a spoon.” 

“And then you say he wouldn’t let you help 
him upstairs, but went all by himself? But you 
saw him when you served his lunch. How did 
he seem then?” 

“That’s another quare thing, sir. He ate a 
hearty lunch, though he wasn’t able to take more 
than a child the day before.” 

“Did he seem like himself? Talk much?” 

“He talked—yes—but—” 

“But what?” 

“I can’t tell you how it was, sir, but I had a 


THE JEWELED MATCH-BOX 219 

quare feelin’ that Twasn’t himself at all. ’Twas 
like I was dreamin^ it was; and I hope you’ll not 
think shame of me, sir, if I tell you I haven’t 
waked up since.” 

‘‘You’ll wake up soon, Dennis. Quite soon,” 
Capwell averred confidently. “Now, where was 
the trunk all this time!” 

“I brought it down and left it in the hall out¬ 
side his door, but Mr. Charles must have brought 
it into the room and packed it—though what he 
put in it is past me to tell.” 

“Did you carry it downstairs?” 

“I did that.” 

“And you put it on the taxicab?” 

“I did.” 

“Was it heavy?” 

“Fairly so, sir.” 

“That is, you don’t think it was an empty 
trunk?” 

“Sure it wasn’t an empty trunk. Didn’t I 
bring it down empty from the storeroom just the 
evenin’ before?” 

“You think it was a hundred pounds heavier 
when you put it on the cab ? ’ ’ 

“There’s no doubt about that, sir, but, my God, 
what was in it, when there’s nothin’ missin’ from 
his room that would weigh an ounce itself?” 

“That’s what we are going to find out. Now, 
can you give me some of the old man’s handwrit¬ 
ing? Something he’s written recently?” 


220 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

^Tis not much writing he’s been doin’ of late. 
There may be some checks or something like that, 
but there’s not much writin’ itself on a check.” 

^‘Enough for my purpose. Can we find some 
canceled checks? The very last ones he had.” 

Since Mr. Charles came I don’t remember to 
have seen them at all. But I have his name on 
an order he gave me a long time ago when Mr. 
Charles was not here. If that same would be 
doin’ you any good, you’re welcome to it.” 

He produced a scrap of paper and Capwell 
scanned it carefully. 

^‘All right, Dennis. I’ll keep this, just what 
I want. Now, you know Miss Eleanor doesn’t 
want Mr. Charles to know I have been here,” he 
cautioned. 

He’ll never know anything from my lips that 
Miss Eleanor, God bless her, wants unbeknowui 
to him, and that she knows right well, ’ ’ said Den¬ 
nis fervently. 

^‘So she does, Dennis, so she does,” Capwell 
assured him. ‘‘Now one thing more, Dennis. 
What did the old man smoke? Cigarettes? 
Cigars?” 

‘ ‘ Sure he never smoked anything, sir, nor would 
he allow Mr. Charles to smoke in the house. That 
is if he knew it. Mr. Charles often lighted his 
cigarette in the house before he left it, and I must 
say he was most untidy with his matches—Ann’ll 
tell you that same.” 


THE JEWELED MATCH-BOX 221 

‘‘Oh, he was untidy, was he! Threw his 
matches about, I suppose. You wouldn’t happen 
to have any of them, would you!” 

“I would not. They was little matches in a 
kind of a case that had a head of a Turk or some¬ 
thing on it. His turban or his crown or whatever 
you call the thing on the top of his head had 
diamonds and green stones in it. Many’s the 
time I saw it, sir. He told me once a Russian 
countess gave it to him.” 

“Did it look anything like this, Dennis!” 

“ ’Tis, indeed, the same, sir,” he said, taking 
it in his hand and examining carefully the object 
Capwell protfered him. “Yes, ’tis the same. I 
mind the dent in it. Mr. Charles told me a bullet 
struck him and it saved his life. And the matches 
inside had bright green heads on them onlike any¬ 
thing I ever saw before.” He touched a spring 
and the case flew open. 

“Yes, sir, ’tis the same, the very same—the 
little green-headed divils he scattered on the rugs 
or anywhere—the very same.” 

“All right, Dennis. I don’t believe you’ll see 
any more of them scattered about this house,” 
said Capwell, taking the case from him and re¬ 
placing it in his pocket. “Now I’m going. Don’t 
let on to anybody that I’ve been here. Go and 
read your letter with Ann. I’ll tell Miss Eleanor 
you’ve treated me royally.” 




CHAPTER XXV 


THE THIED DEGKEE 

C APWELL left the house very well satisfied 
with himself. His next concern was to 
round up the man whom Charles had called 
Buggs and ascertain their precise relations. He 
was morally certain that he would appear as soon 
as Charles came into the inheritance, but he was 
eager to get on his trail before that if possible, 
and one evening chance favored him. The police 
had raided a pseudo-clothing store, and had col¬ 
lected along with several gallons of anti-Volstead 
a few choice specimens of the genus homo, 

A telephone message from police headquarters 
advised Capwell that the man he wanted was 
among their number. On his arrival he had no 
difficulty in immediately recognizing one of the 
group, and that one flashed a sullen glance of 
recognition on Capwell. 

^‘So you know me again, I see,” said Capwell, 
the significance of his words and manner under¬ 
stood only by the captive. 

The man addressed turned a livid green, while 
an expression of deadly fear lit up his eyes. 
‘‘Oh, you know Buggs, do you?” said the officer 

in some surprise, for Capwell had stated that he 

222 


THE THIRD DEGREE 223 

was baffled in his search for that offender because 
he was unknown to him. 

^‘BuggsT’ repeated Capwell, his eye fastened 
on the cringing captive. '‘Oh, yes, Buggs. Yes, 
officer, Buggs and I have met before. We’d like 
a little quiet talk together if you’ll provide a 
room where we won’t be interrupted.” 

The room being provided, Capwell prepared 
his man for the third degree by inspiring him 
with still more terror than he already manifested. 

"So here’s where you are,” he began in a ter¬ 
rible voice. "You’ve been a pretty wary cus¬ 
tomer, but you’ve slipped a cog somewhere, for 
here we are at last—at last.” His fingers gripped 
tightly and he transfixed his terrified victim with 
a glare which he had practiced many hours for 
use on occasions like the present. 

"Listen, boss,” said Buggs, "don’t be too hard 
on me till you know the whole story. I didn’t 
know what was in them dispatches, so help me 
God, till it was all over. They was given to me 
to take to the German camp to fool ’em with. 
The officer what gave ’em to me told me to go 
over the lines and let myself be captured with 
them dispatches on me, and to promise to give 
’em a lot more information and they’d let me go 
free. And then he told me a lot more stuff to 
tell ’em which he said was to fool ’em and then 
they’d come over to take our trenches and when 
they got there they’d all be in a trap, and I would 


224 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


be the hero of the Allies with promotion and 
medals and no end of money/^ He paused to see 
what impression he was making. 

^^Go on/’ said Capwell in a steely voice. 

“It worked just as he said it would,” Buggs 
continued. “I got over the lines and was cap¬ 
tured and they brought me into a dugout where 
there was some Hun officers and they took the 
dispatches and read ’em and talked Dutch and 
laughed and hollered like mad; and then I guess 
they give an order for me to be turned loose be¬ 
cause I had some beer and got away—but, my 
God, captain,” he thrust a bent arm across his 
face. 

“Well, what then?” said Capwell sternly, giv¬ 
ing no evidence that he was utterly unprepared 
for this revelation. 

“It didn’t go off right,” he sobbed. “That 
night the Huns came over in swarms, and—oh, 
my God!—I can see the boys now. Don’t make 
me tell it, boss,” he pleaded. “I’ve seen war— 
God! I guess I have. I was with the Canadians 
at Wipers—but the slaughter that night and the 
Hun flag wavin’ over the place next morning— 
don’t make me tell it, boss.” He flung his coarse 
hands over his hardened face and shook like a 
poplar leaf in the wind. 

Capwell was appalled. After awhile he asked 
more gently, for he was not untouched by the 
genuine emotion of the man: 


THE THIRD DEGREE 225 

^ ‘ Did you know the man who sent you with the 
dispatches ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, he was wearing the uniform of a British 
officer and I thought it was all right—then.’’ 

“You say then! Did you ever see him at any 
other time?” 

The man’s expression immediately changed. It 
became vindictive, crafty. 

“I think I did,” he answered reservedly. 

“You think you did. IDiB, you?” 

The man was silent. 

“Oh, well,” Capwell spoke indifferently, “there 
probably wasn’t any other man. You would say 
that to save your own neck. You are the man 
who carried the plans of the salient to the enemy 
that night. You are the spy. You are guilty 
of the slaughter that night. YouV^ 

Capwell had assumed his third degree man¬ 
ner again, and the terrified man quailed before 
it. 

“No, boss, no! I swear it!” he cried, wringing 
his futile hands. 

“Then who is the traitor?” Capwell demanded. 

“I’ll tell you, boss, if you promise not to have 
me shot,” he whimpered, craftiness again show¬ 
ing through his terror. 

“And if you don’t tell me, what then? You 
have a few other unsettled accounts, I understand. 
The theft of a diamond ring from Jasper Bowen^s 
house, for instance.” 


226 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘H never stole that ring; I swear it. I wasn’t 
in Jasper Bowen’s house that night.” 

‘‘What were you doing skulking around there, 
then?” 

“I was engaged as a private detective,” he de¬ 
clared, for the first time looking Capwell squarely 
in the eye. 

Capwell smiled ironically. 

“Since when have you honored our profession 
with your accession to the ranks?” he said. 

Buggs was silent. 

“I asked you a question,” Capwell thun¬ 
dered. 

“Honest to God, boss, I was hired to watch that 
house that night,” he whimpered. 

“Who hired you?” demanded Capwell. 

“The man who owns the house,” replied Buggs 
after a moment’s hesitation. 

“And who owns the house?” 

Capwell did not fail to note the expression of 
shifty evasion which accompanied the answer. 

“Mr. Charles Bowen.” 

“And he gave you the ring for your services? 
A rather unusual way of paying a detective, isn’t 
it?” 

“We had some words—and I threatened him— 
and he gave me the ring.” 

“Ah—you threatened him? In other words, 
you blackmailed him?” 

A fleeting look of terror crossed the crafty 


THE THIRD DEGREE 


227 


face again. His shifty eyes sought CapwelPs for 
a moment, and seeing nothing but grim determi¬ 
nation there, he blurted forth angrily: 

‘‘He^s a damn blackguard, he is, and he’s got 
to go fifty-fifty on that Bowen money with me or 
I’ll tell the world the old man died in his bed be¬ 
fore ever the will was made, I will; and I’ll tell 
who made up as the old man and made the will 
hisself, and then took the body in a trunk to Globe 
Hollow and burned it up so’s the doctors couldn’t 
examine it and find out he was dead before the 
will was made. Oh, I’ve got his number, boss,” he 
continued in a sort of frenzy. can tell who 
was the ghost that tried to scare the servants 
away so the girl would be in his power. British 
officer! Send me with dispatches to the damn 
Boches, will he? And risk facing a firing squad. 
I’ll see he don’t get old miser Bowen’s money 
without divvying up with me, I will.” His eyes 
had the look of a maniac in which craft and cun¬ 
ning alternated with malignity. 

‘^But you’re a spy, you know, Buggs,” said 
Capwell, quick to take advantage of the fellow’s 
mood. ^^You won’t have any use for money. 
Bowen will be spending this money while you’re 
rotting in a traitor’s grave.” 

‘‘Bowen? Bowen?” he shrieked. “Do you 
think that fellow’s name is Bowen?” The un¬ 
balanced organism which served for the fellow’s 
brain was as wax in Capy/ell’s hands. 


228 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘^Out with it then and save yonr own miserable 
life, you fool,’^ thundered Capwell. 

On Buggs’s face flitted changing emotions. It 
was evident that he was in deadly fear for his 
own safety now that Capwell had found him; and 
in still more fear of the wrath of the seemingly 
powerful Bowen.’’ Capwell, accustomed to 
reading faces, detected something more than fear. 
There was suspicion, doubt, distrust. Capwell 
suspected that he considered himself unfairly 
treated and that he was more than a little sus¬ 
picious that Bowen meant to ‘‘do him” in this 
latest enterprise. The detective was quick to fol¬ 
low up this mood. 

“Well, I’m waiting,” he said, “but I suppose 
that he has always been so square with you you 
hate to give him away.” 

‘ ‘ Square with me ? Hell! He’d give you good 
money, boss, to croak me. He’s tried to hisself 
more’n once; and I expect he’ll get me yet— 
unless I get him first.” His upper lip curled 
like that of an angry cur ready to spring. 

Capwell followed up his opportunity. 

“He’ll get you first all right. Don’t make any 
mistake about that,” he said in a tone of convic¬ 
tion. “All I need to do is to go and ask him to 
tell me all he knows about you, and he’ll tell it 
p, d, q, with all the frills on. And I don’t even 
need to hunt him up. As soon as he knows I’ve 


THE THIRD DEGREE . 229 

nabbed you, he’ll come running with bells on to 
give you away.” 

Buggs was standing where a shaft of light from 
a barred window high up in the outside wall fell 
across his face. Cap well, standing with one el¬ 
bow resting on a high desk, observed the offender 
with his usual fine attention to details. 

He was not a repulsive-looking man—at least 
Nature had not intended him for such: His un¬ 
shaven face, his unwashed hands, his slinking 
manner and the hunted—half-defiant, half-angry 
—expression of his eyes were merely evidences 
of his ill-spent life. Not a predestined criminal, 
Capwell mentally registered. Bertillon measure¬ 
ments would not disclose him to be sub-normal 
in intelligence or marked with the hereditary 
signs of the criminal. The repellent features he 
possessed were acquired—were milestones mark¬ 
ing the downward path. His language, too, was 
not the vocabulary of the gang. The vernacular 
he had, Capwell believed, had been picked up 
along his way. He interested Capwell. 

‘‘Am I right?” he questioned, as Buggs had 
failed to comment on his last statement. 

“You’re more’n right,” Buggs admitted. “I 
know too much about that good-looking devil with 
his polite ways to make it safe for him to have 
me hanging around where he is playing up the 
Bowen stunt and not divvying up. And, boss, he 



230 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


canT get away from me. At first lie^d give me 
the slip by sending me to the other ends of the 
earth on a wild-goose chase; but I always caught 
up with him. IVe trailed him all over God’s 
earth, and no matter what disguise he has on, 
IVe found him. And do you know how, boss? 
IVe smelled him. You’d laugh to see him some 
time when he’s talking to some swell guy, pre¬ 
tending to be an officer or something, suddenly 
lamp me, when he thought I was in Australia or 
somewhere. God! I’ve just rolled over and 
laughed till my belly ached.” 

‘^What would he do then? Give you money, I 
suppose?” 

‘‘You betcher life he gave me money—and a 
lot of it usually; and I’d swear solemn I’d never 
come back any more.” 

For the moment he was enjoying the memory 
of the discomfiture he had precipitated. 

“And you broke your word each time, of 
course?” said Capwell. 

“Sure thing!” asserted Buggs. “ ’Tain’t 
breaking your word to fool that lyin’ hypocrite.” 

He turned and spat toward the somewhat dis¬ 
tant cuspidor with such dexterity that the shot 
hit the exact center of the bull’s-eye. 

“And now what I’m trying to get him to do,” 
he continued, “is to split fifty-fifty on this Bowen 
deal, and then I’ll settle down and be a honest 
citizen the rest of my life. I’m fed up on chasin’ 


THE THIRD DEGREE 


231 


him around, eating my breakfast in France, and 
my dinner in Germany and my supper in some 
dog-gone country where they talk like monkeys, 
and where a hatful of swag don’t get you a ham 
sandwich.” 

^‘Has he agreed to split fifty-fifty?” asked Cap- 
well. 

^‘Hell, yes! He’d promise anything. I ain’t 
got nothin’ on him in the promisin’ line. Only 
he is so damn slippery. I see signs that he means 
to light out again just as soon as he gets the 
money in his hands, and what I’m afraid of is 
that I got to get on his trail again. ’Tain’t so 
easy for me to travel just now as ’tis for him, 
for he’ll have all the money and I’ll have to 
tramp.” 

^^But if he gets away and you have to serve 
a term in prison, he’ll have the laugh on you in 
the end. I’m afraid your wits won’t match his, 
Buggs. He’s got the drop on you because we 
know you, and you won’t tell us who he is,” Cap- 
well baited. 

dunno but I just as soon tell you who he is, 
and it won’t do you much good at that,” said 
Buggs. 

‘^Well, who is he?” urged Capwell. 

Buggs aimed again successfully at the cuspidor. 

‘^Can I set down, boss?” he asked, casting a 
speculative eye over the two or three uncompro¬ 
mising-looking chairs the room afforded. “The 


232 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


beefsteak, and hash brown potatoes, and mince 
pie, and doughnuts and coffee in this hotel this 
morning sets a little heavy on my stomach. Too 
much cream in the coffee don’t agree with me.” 

Capwell was amused at the evasion. 

‘^Sure you can sit down,” he said cordially. 
‘‘Sorry you overate this morning. You better 
go a little slow on that hearty food at first, be¬ 
cause several years of that kind of living will 
make you gouty.” 

Buggs looked up quickly. “Whatch—^ye—mean 
■—several years?” 

“Why, just this. You and Bowen are conspira¬ 
tors and forgers, and thieves. If we can nab 
Bowen on this deal, it may let you out as you 
say you’ve had no money yet.” 

“Bowen, eh? Didn’t I tell you his name wasn’t 
Bowen?” Buggs asked contemptuously. 

“You did,” asserted Capwell in a threatening 
tone, “and I’m going to give you just one minute 
to tell me his real name.” He drew his watch 
from his pocket and held it significantly in his 
hand. 

“Well, as I told you before, his real name won’t 
do you much good because he never done much 
harm when his name was just Frederick Kleberg. 
He was just a nice boy when he lived over in 
Brooklyn and went to school at old Number 17. 
Too nice he was. Always wore a necktie and 
polished his shoes, and wore a ring.” Buggs 



THE THIRD DEGREE 


233 


checked off these absurdities with an amused 
chuckle. “Guess he never knew who his father 
was/’ he continued. “Folks say he was an actor. 
As a boy he could take off anybody—their walk, 
their talk, and their very looks. And he was a 
ventriloquist, too. Used to pull off lots of funny 
stunts.” 

“Popular with the boys, then, I suppose,” said 
Capwell. 

^ ‘ Never, ’ ’ promptly averred Buggs. ‘ ‘ They took 
notice of his stunts, but they never mixed with 
him. There was something different from the 
rest of us about him, and he wasn’t a mixer him¬ 
self.” 

“What became of him?” 

“He joined a vaudeville troupe under another 
name. He called himself Harry Peale, and then 
Harry Peale got arrested for forgery, and about 
that time I ran into him, and got arrested myself 
for coverin’ him. And you know we both served 
sentences in Atlanta Federal prison, and lots 
more you don’t know. As for his names, he has 
a different moniker in every place, but his first 
one was Frederick Kleberg.” 

“Peale? Harry Peale? So he is that bird, is 
he? Well, Buggs, all right. You have given me 
something to think of, and I’ll drop around and 
see you to-morrow morning just after you’ve fin¬ 
ished that beefsteak.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


OUTWITTED 

E verything going fine,” said Capwell 

I to the officer in charge when he emerged 
from the room where he had held his 
interview with Bnggs. ‘‘Isolate Bnggs. Don’t 
let any one get into commimication with him 
in any way until you hear from me again.” 

It was raining hard when he emerged into the 
street. Pedestrians had muffied their ears in up¬ 
turned collars and were plunging forward with 
hats pulled down and heads bent to the driving 
sheets of water. But Capwell was oblivious to 
the elements. Elated with his success, he entered 
his waiting taxi, and drove swiftly to Thornton’s 
office, where he gave vent to his extreme satis¬ 
faction with the progress of events. 

“Good work!” exclaimed Thornton. “You’re 
sure you have Bowen well guarded?” he cau¬ 
tioned. “A man that can assume as many per¬ 
sonalities as he can and elude the most skillful 
agents in Europe isn’t going to fall into any ordi¬ 
nary trap. Your men must have their full five 
senses on guard every second or he’ll give them 
the slip yet.” 


234 



OUTWITTED 


235 


‘‘A flea coaldnT get through the net I have 
woven around him/^ said Capwell confidently. 
‘‘You may be sure I haven’t been trailing that 
fellow for three years to let him slip from my 
grasp now.” 

“I’m sure of it,” assented Thornton, “never¬ 
theless, I shall feel better when you assure me the 
handcuffs are on him.” 

“I won’t keep you waiting another day,” 
laughed Capwell, his keen satisfaction in the near 
termination of his long quest glowing in his eyes. 

He borrowed a raincoat from the lawyer and 
went out into the storm, ducking his head to wind¬ 
ward as he emerged to the street to enter his 
taxi. He gave the driver the name of the white 
marble structure in which Charles Bowen had his 
luxurious apartment. He had no need to hurry. 
He was rather inclined to prolong the exquisite 
sense of satisfaction he felt in the performance 
of these last delectable details. Nothing could go 
wrong now. He was the man who could produce 
the internationally famous criminal. He hadn’t 
studied the intricacies of the foreign Secret Serv¬ 
ice all these years for nothing. Charles Bowen 
could not make the slightest move in his apart¬ 
ment or elsewhere that was not immediately 
transmitted to Capwell’s headquarters. The tel¬ 
ephone, the telegraph, the mails were subsidized. 
The hall boy, the janitor and even Bowen’s valet 
were in Capwell’s pay. “It’s all over but the 


236 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


shouting,” quoted Capwell to himself as he 
howled along through the traffic. 

He made no attempt to disguise his person as 
he approached the apartment. There was no need 
of subterfuge. There might be a fight, but escape 
was impossible. 

‘‘Bowen in?” he asked the uniformed hall boy. 

“Yes, sir,” replied that functionary. 

“His valet with him?” 

“No, sir, he left the house an hour and a half 
ago.” 

“He was followed, of course,” Capwell asked 
quickly, “by the usual two men?” 

“Oh, yes, sir, and the report came back he 
went to Jasper Bowen ^s residence and he hadn^t 
left it ten minutes ago.” 

“Good. Call in Devery and Horrowitz. Notify 
Burns on the beat. Have the car at the door in 
five minutes.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Capwell, Devery and Horrowitz took the ele¬ 
vator, and on the third floor they stepped from 
it onto the thick crimson carpet of the corridor. 
At the second door to the left they touched a but¬ 
ton and heard the tinkle of the bell within. Get¬ 
ting no response, they rang again—and yet again. 

Capwell looked sharply at his two subordinates. 

“You’re sure he didn’t go out?” 

“Sure, sir. A fly couldn’t get out of this apart¬ 
ment without being seen,” said Devery positively. 


OUTWITTED 237 

‘^The fire escape opens into a court, and there is 
a man night and day on the outlook there.” 

Capwell tried the door. It was locked. He 
rang once again. Getting no response, he looked 
through the keyhole. 

‘ ‘ The door must have been locked from the out¬ 
side,” he said, a note of anxiety creeping into 
his voice. ‘‘There is no key inside.” 

Prom his pocket he took a bunch of skeleton 
keys and, his hand trembling a bit in spite of him¬ 
self, fitted one into the lock. The bolt flew back, 
and the three men, revolvers in hand, burst 
through the swiftly opened door. 

Here an amazing situation confronted them. 
In the center of the room, facing the door, sat a 
figure in the grotesque garments of a clown, his 
pointed hat falling limply askew, his arms bound 
and the bandage with which he was gagged fail¬ 
ing to hide the grotesque grin painted on the cloth 
which covered his face. In his bound hands he 
held a large blue envelope. 

All three officers of the law leveled their pistols 
and cautiously approached the sitting figure. 
Capwell had thought himself prepared for any 
subtle trick of the arch impersonator, but this 
was “a new one on him” he admitted. 

“Keep him covered,” he ordered, while he him¬ 
self carefully inspected the disguise. He cut the 
knot of the pocket handkerchief used for a gag, 
snatched the covering from the face, and fell 


238 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

back astounded. The pseudo valet, Detective 
Connors, glared at them from indignant eyes. 

‘‘Whereas Bowen!” demanded Capwell. 

‘‘Gone an hour ago,” said Connors. “Cut 
these damned bandages. IVe lost the use of my 
limbs.” 

When freed he stretched his cramped muscles 
and explained that while he had been engaged in 
his usual occupations that morning a voice behind 
him peremptorily ordered: 

“Hands up!” 

He turned and looked into the barrel of a lev¬ 
eled revolver held in the hand of Bowen, who 
pleasantly and politely invited him to remove his 
clothing and substitute the clown’s costume. This 
accomplished, he had to submit to be bound and 
gagged. Connors described his captor as light¬ 
ning in his movements and his fingers like tem¬ 
pered steel. He completed his disguise by don¬ 
ning Connors’ storm coat and hat. He then imi¬ 
tated perfectly the slightly peculiar gait and man¬ 
ner of Connors and startled that individual by 
an exact reproduction of his voice. He satirically 
apologized for the inconvenience he was causing 
so faithful and trustworthy a servant and begged 
him to express his regrets to Capwell for not be¬ 
ing able to wait for his arrival. 

Capwell flushed. 

“An hour and a half start,” he muttered. 


OUTWITTED 239 

^‘Well, any way, on to Bowenhouse,” he or¬ 
dered. 

The two detectives were on guard when they 
arrived, and Capwell breathed more freely. Con¬ 
nors, they reported, had arrived and had not left 
the house. 

They got no response to their ring, but the door 
yielded readily to their touch, and five men en¬ 
tered. All was quiet. They distributed them¬ 
selves according to Capwell’s directions and be¬ 
gan a cautious and guarded search. 

Capwell, with Horrowitz, was seaching the 
library when Devery called them to the kitchen. 
There sat Dennis and Ann, bound and gagged, 
Dennis wearing the valeCs clothing which was 
far from meeting the needs of his more corpulent 
body. 

CapwelPs heart missed a beat, while the eyes 
of Daly, one of the detectives detailed to watch 
the house, nearly burst their sockets with sur¬ 
prise. 

^‘Dennis!” he ejaculated. ^^How in the name 
of the devil did you get back into the house with¬ 
out my seeing you?” 

Dennis could only glare in reply, hut when he 
was released and the question repeated he replied 
petulantly: 

^‘How could you he after seein’ me come in 
when I haven’t been out the livelong day?” 


240 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Daly’s jaw dropped. 

‘‘You’re a damn liar, then. You spoke to me 
when you went out at your usual time at half past 
one o’clock.” 

“I did not speak to you then, nor at any other 
time,” declared Dennis. “It was Mr. Charles 
Bowen that spoke to you, and him lookin’ like 
the spit and image of myself. He’s a great joker, 
he is, and I don’t relish livin’ out my five years 
with him at all—^bad luck to him,” he added, rue¬ 
fully regarding his absurd appearance. 

Ann had by this time been released. “Five 
years, is it?” she indignantly exclaimed. “No, 
and not five minutes, and me a married woman 
this ten years and well-behaved and dacint to 
have to see a man undress to his underclothes 
before my face and eyes and make my husband, 
Dennis, that is, change clothes with him for a 
lark. It’s too old we are for such pranks, and 
I’ll never get the use of my arms again, tied 
up this way for many hours, and the last word 
he sayin’ to us in his laughin’ way: ‘Dennis,’ 
he says, ‘I can’t be thankful enough to you for 
your blue eyes,’ and he puttin’ on some kind 
of stutf that made him the color of Dennis, 
and he puffin’ out his cheeks above the collar of 
Dennis’s old raincoat, and settin’ Dennis’s hat a 
bit on one side of his head for all the world like 
himself will do in spite of me tellin’ him he looks 
rakish that way. And even the basket on his arm 


OUTWITTED 


241 


itself, he carried it like himself. I don’t like such 
pranks, so I don’t. I declare to my God, I’ll leave 
the house this day, so I will.” 

Capwell saw it all. There was no need to 
search the house further. His quarry had es¬ 
caped. He squared his jaw determinedly, gave 
some further directions to his men, and left alone 
in his waiting taxicab. 


CHAPTER XXVn 


MOKE THAN ONE WAY 

A COLD, depressing rain was beating spas¬ 
modically against the window panes, tem¬ 
pering the familiar roar of Forty-second 
Street and intensifying the gloom in Cap well’s 
private office—a quite unnecessary waste of en¬ 
ergy on the part of Nature. Capwell needed no 
external aids to complete the sense of depression 
following the utter defeat of his cherished enter¬ 
prise. 

He sat at his desk; at his elbow a bunch of 
unnoticed official papers, weighted with the futile 
automatic pistol whose last act had placed him 
in the role of comedian. The hand upon which 
his forehead rested partially concealed the gray 
and haggard features. All the airy optimism 
which he had displayed in Thornton’s office had 
given place to bitter self-condemnation. He had 
overreached himself in his attempt to gather all 
the various threads of his quarry’s past into his 
hands. Why had he not secured him when he was 
sure of his prey? Why had he been so obsessed 
with the determination to add the crime of mur¬ 
der to the sum of his other crimes? If only he 
had used better judgment when he had had the 

242 



MORE THAN ONE WAY 243 

villain in his power. His pride was sore stricken, 
and he wallowed in the depths of humiliation. 
He dropped his hand to the desk in an uncon¬ 
scious gesture of despair. In falling it rested 
on the blue typewritten letter which had been 
found in the bound hands of Conners in the Van¬ 
derbilt apartment. 

At sight of it, CapwelPs eyes glowed with sud¬ 
den anger. He had already read it, but he picked 
it up and read again: 


‘‘My dear Capwell: I appreciate the zeal and 
persistency you have shown in attempting to bind 
our love with bonds of steel; but I have given you 
so many opportunities that you have failed to 
avail yourself of, that were I not a supreme op¬ 
timist I should become discouraged and drop you 
from number One on my list of dangerous foes, 
and place you at the bottom of the list. 

“Why, Capwell, you are almost the first sleuth 
I knew in what you call my criminal career. I 
didn’t think then you would make the great name 
for yourself that you have, because you did a 
very indiscreet thing on that occasion. You ac¬ 
cepted a cigarette from a stranger. It grieves 
me even yet to remember that it was narcotized, 
and that the post-office inspector who induced you 
to show him some finger-print evidence obtained 
from a bottle of explosive used in an affair that 
shall be nameless, walked otf wdth his own finger¬ 
prints. Surely you see you were putting a pre¬ 
mium on crime to let a novice discover how easy 
it is to put it over on a detective. 


244 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

had many interviews with you after that, and 
I saw that you were really coming on. On the 
occasion when you were looking for a man who 
had been impersonating a naval officer and I dined 
with you at the Ritz and assisted you to collect 
some false evidence, you were very amusing. Cap- 
well. I remember how puffied up you were when 
you placed your host’s card in your breast pocket 
—Commander Stanley Richardson, U. S. N. But 
I was grieved at your ingratitude soon thereafter 
,when I discovered that you were looking for your 
distinguished host. 

must hand it to you, though, old sleuth, for 
the chase you gave me overseas. J£ it is any 
satisfaction to you, let me assure you that if you 
hadn’t been so close on my heels when I visited 
the Escadrille de Volontaires, where I met 
Charles Bowen and discovered our remarkable 
resemblance, I should now be wallowing in re¬ 
spectability. Horrible fate! 

‘‘Don’t give up looking for me. By so doing 
you will take away my keenest zest in life. I 
shall be in Toronto next Monday. Look for me 
there—but you won’t find me. Indeed, I predict 
that you never will find 

“The Nimble Dodger.” 

Slowly, methodically, he perused the insolent 
message, and placed it back on the desk. Then 
he raised a clenched fist and brought it down with 
terrific force on the inanimate paper. 

Suddenly he seemed to cast off the despair 
which had enveloped him and clogged his ener¬ 
gies. He rose to his feet and shook himself. 



MORE THAN ONE WAY 245 

“You have overlooked one thing, my Nimble 
Dodger,’’ he said between his teeth, “and that is 
your dupe, Buggs. You have entirely failed to 
assess the mental equipment of Buggs at its true 
value. A little training and he will make an in¬ 
comparable sleuth. And he knows you and your 
ways down to the ground. You have never found 
a disguise yet that he hasn’t penetrated. He 
trailed you all over France and Belgium and half 
of Europe besides. Just as you thought yourself 
safely and permanently established as Charles 
Bowen, there was Buggs sniffing at your heels. 
He has the scent and tenacity of the bloodhound, 
and, moreover, he is ready to hate you. Hence¬ 
forth, I shall take pains to ‘feed fat the ancient 
grudge’ he bears you; and Buggs it shall be for 
you, from this time forth and forevermore.” 

Cap well’s reaction was instantaneous. His dis¬ 
appointment went far deeper than the humiliation 
caused by the loss of prestige of “Hundred per 
cent Capwell,” as he was familiarly called in the 
profession. It was the failure itself, the mo¬ 
mentary sickening conviction that he was a “back 
number.” 

He was too mentally robust, however, to har¬ 
bor for long such a destructive thought; and his 
agile brain presently began to function normally. 
He accepted as an omen this sudden obtrusion of 
Buggs into his thoughts. Why not train Buggs 
to run the villain down! The fellow’s confine- 


246 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


ment in jail was only temporary. A mere pay¬ 
ment of a fine, and a judicious holding the sword 
of Damocles over his head, and Buggs was his 
forever. The feasibility of the plan grew upon 
him, and, characteristically with Capwell, the 
thought resulted in prompt action. 

He found Buggs sullen and resentful. But 
after he had gone through the necessary formal¬ 
ities for his release, he melted to the extent of 
being suspiciously grateful to his visitor for sav¬ 
ing him a sentence of sixty days on the Island. 
He stoically accepted the good meal provided for 
him, and resignedly submitted to the Turkish 
bath, the barber’s manipulations, and the offices 
of the tailor. It was a new and almost self-re¬ 
specting Buggs that presented himself at Cap- 
well’s office to learn the next step in this remark¬ 
able turn in his affairs. 

Capwell surveyed him with satisfaction. The 
self-esteem engendered by the improvement in 
his personal appearance communicated itself to 
his muscles, and the upright, slouchless figure was 
scarcely recognizable as the slinking Buggs. In¬ 
deed, he was a very fair representative of the 
average citizen. 

‘‘Stand over here by the window,” Capwell or¬ 
dered. His manner was tense and eager. 

Buggs darted a sidewise glance at the detective 
but obeyed with apparent phlegm. 

“Gee! this is a new one on me,” he reflected. 


MORE THAN ONE WAY 247 

‘HVe had my picture took—taken,’’ he corrected 
himself, remembering his regenerated self, ‘‘and 
my finger prints are on file, but I’ll be everlast¬ 
ingly damned if I know what this one’s going to 
do to me.” 

Capwell was not concerned with Buggs’s re¬ 
flections, but there was no single outward feature 
of the man that he was not taking account of— 
his height, the breadth of shoulders; he made him 
walk back and forth to observe his posture, gait, 
and general appearance. He studied the slope 
of the jaw, the way the ears set back, the straight 
nose curving neither upward nor downward. 
Nothing very noticeable in all these physical 
traits. His hair and eyes were without distinc¬ 
tion—neither brown nor black—just hair and 
eyes. 

There was one feature, however, that bothered 
him. The lower lip closed over the upper one, 
giving him a somewhat impudent, not to say bel¬ 
ligerent, expression. This feature Capwell found 
disconcerting. It was the only outstanding char¬ 
acteristic of the whole personality. It marked 
him unmistakably. All else was commonplace in 
the extreme—a blank surface on which Capwell 
could stamp what impress he liked. He would 
have been glad had this been otherwise. In the 
midst of his regret his subconsciousness began to 
clamor for attention. 

“Dr. Victoire, Dr. Victoire,” it reminded him. 



248 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Dr. Victoire,’’ he repeated aloud. “Buggs, 
did you ever hear of Dr. Victoire ? ’ ’ 

“Sure, he’s the guy—I mean—yes, I have 
heard of him. He is the great doctor that makes 
over faces. Takes plaster casts, and wires up 
your teeth and yanks your face all round where 
it ought to be—in case you’ve got a face that 
ain’t right. He’s in that big office building for 
doctors over in Forty-first Street.” Buggs sup¬ 
plied this information with the air of one thor¬ 
oughly acquainted with many phases of life in the 
big city. 

“To be sure,” ejaculated Capwell. “He’s the 
famous orthodontist who invented appliances for 
correcting all sorts of troubles caused by refrac¬ 
tory teeth. Let me look at your jaw, Buggs— 
turn this way.” 

Buggs submitted with ill-concealed pugnacity. 
His jaw had always suited him. It wasn’t hand¬ 
some, he’d admit, but, such as it was, it was his 
own property, as Capwell would damned well find 
out if he attempted to monkey with his jaw. 

And Capwell was saying to himself: “That jaw 
is hung all right. That protruding lip is a mal¬ 
formation caused by his teeth. By God! I’ll 
have every tooth in his head yanked out if neces¬ 
sary,” he swore savagely. 

They stared at each other, and each saw antag¬ 
onism in the other’s eyes. Capwell quickly re¬ 
covered himself. 



MORE THAN ONE WAY 


249 


‘^Now, sit down, Buggs, and let^s get down to 
brass tacks. Have a cigar and make yourself 
comfortable.’’ Buggs’s eye lighted with satisfac¬ 
tion as he observed the name of the brand of the 
delectable cigar it was going to be his good for¬ 
tune to enjoy. He managed to suppress his eager¬ 
ness, and with the fragrant weed between his lips, 
he leaned back in a comfortable leather chair and 
forgot for a moment that his jaw bone was pres¬ 
ently going to be awarded as a prize to the best 
fighter. 

Capwell, too, smoked in silence for awhile. 

Presently he said, ^‘You never made a very 
successful criminal, did you, Buggs?” 

Buggs’s eyes narrowed resentfully. He framed 
the words: ^‘What the hell’s that to you?” but 
he realized in time that this was the wrong man 
to confront with that question, so he said nothing. 

‘^The reason I mention it,” went on Capwell, 
casually, watching the floating ribbon of smoke, 
^‘is that you couldn’t in the nature of things suc¬ 
ceed in that line of business. You were never 
meant for it. You have none of the earmarks 
of. the criminal. All the apparent marks were ac¬ 
quired. How did you happen to choose that for 
a career, Buggs?” 

Capwell tapped the ash from the end of his 
cigar, and held it poised in his hand, regarding 
the glowing tip instead of his visitor’s face. 

Buggs eyed him suspiciously. 


250 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


you mind telling me what your game is, 
bossT’ lie questioned. 

“Not in the least,’’ responded Capwell. “That 
is what I brought you here for.” He bent his 
eyes keenly on the other’s face while he slowly 
and distinctly explained. 

“I have discovered that there is a gentleman 
variously known as Gentleman Jim—Charles 
Bowen—The Nimble Dodger—and so forth, et 
cetera, that you and I have an equal amount of 
love for. My game is for you and me to pool 
our interests and run him down. How does that 
strike you?” 

Buggs became alive at once. His eyes held a 
look of concentrated venom. 

“Do you mean that, boss? I’ll chase him 
through hell for you,” he said eagerly. 

“We have both chased him through hell al¬ 
ready, and he’s still ahead of us, and out of 
sight,” said Capwell dryly. “We’ve got to 
change our methods completely, don’t you see?” 

Buggs didn’t see, and so politely refrained 
from saying that he did. But he sensed that some 
great good luck was coming his way in what dis¬ 
guise he couldn’t, at the moment, conjecture. 

“You don’t understand, I see. Well, Buggs, 
how would you like to be my partner in the hunt 
for your old friend of many names?” 

“Your partner!” Buggs gasped. “All you 
know about me? And—and—my picture in the 


251 


MORE THAN ONE WAY 

Rogues’ gallery—and my record—” For a mo¬ 
ment his face glowed with the hope of a new 
deal, but the light died out almost immediately. 
‘ ^ Hell! You ’re stringing me, ’ ’ he said, springing 
to his feet. 

Capwell waved an admonitory hand at him and 
motioned him back to his seat. 

“Now, now, don’t he rash,” he abjured, “and 
let’s drop the past out of sight. You’ve nothing 
hanging over you at present, and you’re as free 
as I am. Would you lihe to see your old friend 
behind the bars?” 

“I’d like to poke fire in hell to roast him—the 
damned—” 

Capwell enjoyed the fanatical glow in bis new 
partner’s eyes, but he interrupted the flow of 
language about to follow. 

“Oh, stow it, stow it,” he admonished laugh¬ 
ingly. “First catch him—catch him, you under¬ 
stand.” 

“God! that’s dead easy,” replied Buggs, drop¬ 
ping back into his chair. “He’s never got so far 
away that I didn’t catch him. It may take time, 
but I can find him. I was going on his trail, any¬ 
way. That’s my life job. That’s what he let 
himself in for when he double-crossed me. I 
learned a few tricks from him, and I ain’t never 
paid him in full yet.” 

Capwell relished the ominous gleam in the fel¬ 
low’s eyes. 


252 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

‘‘How were you going?he asked. “Tramp 
itr^ 

“Hell, yes,’’ replied Buggs. “I ain’t got 
money to go no other way; but I got all the time 
they is.” His fingers were twitching menacingly. 
“I ain’t saying what I’m going to do to him when 
I ketch up with him this time, neither, ’ ’ he added. 

Capwell thought he could guess his intention 
without further explanation. The fellow’s mood 
was quite to his liking. An excellent tool for his 
purpose. 

“I like your spirit, Buggs, but your method 
can be improved upon,” he said. “In the first 
place, tramping is too slow, and too conspicuous. 
It is among the tramps and the jail-birds he will 
be looking for you. So we must put you in the 
most unlikely place he would expect to find you. 
We must make a gentleman of you, Buggs.” 

“Holy Gripes, man,” gasped Buggs, with bulg¬ 
ing eyes. “How the hell you going to do it?” 

Capwell roared with laughter. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE BATTLE OF THE JAW BONE 

B UGGS presently caught the contagion of the 
detective ^s laughter, and when convinced 
that he was not the subject of ridicule, 
laughed with him. 

‘‘Some job, you^11 have to admit, eh!’’ he said. 
“Not so much of a much as one might think 
at a first glance,^’ said Capwell. “Thereonly 
that protruding lower lip of yours.’’ 

“You can quit on that before you begin,” said 
Buggs sharply. “I ain’t agoing to have my jaw 
monkeyed with. It takes more’n one jaw to make 
a gentleman, and you’d better begin somewheres 
else.” 

He became at once the outcast Buggs. His chin 
rested on his chest, and he glowered out of the 
same upturned sullen eyes that Capwell had en¬ 
countered in the prison. 

“Sit up,” commanded Capwell sharply. 

Buggs reluctantly straightened. 

“That’s the worst thing about you, Buggs, 
You slink. That’s a confession of failure in itself. 
Does Gentleman Jim ever slink? Not on your 
life! We’d have caught him long ago if he sulked 

and glowered and snarled like an ugly cur.” 

253 


254 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Buggs made no reply. 

don’t think I can trust you, anyway,” Cap- 
well goaded. ‘‘You talk big about what you’re 
going to do when you get him, but it’s all brag. 
If you were face to face with the damned crook 
this minute and he said “Boo!” to you,"you’d 
slink into a corner and beg him to kick you. 
You’re a damned coward, Buggs.” 

Capwell noted with satisfaction that the shaft 
had gone home. Buggs flushed and then turned 
white, while his hands tightly gripped the arms 
of his chair, as if to keep him from avenging the 
insult. Capwell waited for him to speak. 

After a moment his fingers relaxed and he 
spoke quietly. 

“You’re right, boss. I ain’t had no luck, and 
I’m down and out. If you always get the raw 
end of the deal—every time, never missing, you 
lose your nerve after a while. All you can do 
when you’re flung in a corner is just to snarl and 
bite if you can.” 

“That’s all right,” agreed Capwell, “but what 
I’m kicking about is that you snarl and bite when 
you’re not in a corner. Did I have you in a comer 
just now? Was I giving you the raw end of the 
deal?” 

“As to that,” said Buggs, “you know damn 
well you had me in a corner, or you wouldn’t have 
had the nerve to ask me to have my jaw bone 
busted.” 


THE BATTLE OF THE JAW BONE 255 

“And again, as to that,’^ said Capwell, “you 
must admit that that same jaw bone is not an 
asset, but a liability. You carry on your face a 
ticket to jail that is visible from the Bronx to the 
Bowery. And then you cuss me out when I tell 
you a way to get rid of it. What do you hang 
around New York for, anyway, with that jaw of 
yours known to every cop in the city? I canT 
understand your mental processes.’’ 

Capwell saw the blood again flush to his face, 
and then leave it. 

“You know damn well why I’m in New York,” 
he muttered. “I followed Gentleman Jim.” 

“So you did, and what the hell good did it do 
you? That face of yours queered you, and you 
spent your time in jail while he was eating pie 
at the Vanderbilt. That so?” 

“I didn’t do nothin’ to be jailed for, so help 
me,” he muttered, drawing his black brows to¬ 
gether and immediately restoring them to their 
normal position. 

“That’s better,” said Capwell, noting the self- 
control indicated by the gesture. “That’s what 
I’m telling you. You don’t have to do anything. 
That jaw of yours is a free meal ticket anywhere 
from Blackwells Island to Sing Sing.” 

Buggs considered. 

“What’s the idea, then?” he asked. 

“My one idea—my only aim in life,” said Cap- 
well gravely, “is to capture this devilish crook. 


256 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


I^d cheerfully become a hideous dwarf to accom¬ 
plish my object. Now you—^you can locate him 
without disguise, but you can’t hold him. He has 
played clownish tricks on me, and he despises you. 
I- want him to know in his last hour that Capwell, 
whom he flouted, used Buggs, whose value he 
reckons at zero, to bring him down.” Capwell’s 
mouth closed so tightly that the color fled from 
his lips, leaving a white surface on the hardened 
muscles. 

^‘And you want to do it with my jaw bone,” 
murmured Buggs. 

^‘Exactly that,” said Capwell. 

‘^Well, it won’t be the first time the jaw bone 
of an ass got in some good work,” said Buggs 
with a twisted smile. 

Capwell followed up the half-concession im¬ 
plied in the remark. 

“Buggs, as Buggs you admit you’re a failure. 
You’ve no more talent for burglary than you have 
for preaching. You’ve got into the wrong pew. 
That’s the matter with you. The only thing for 
you to do is to break away completely from your 
present life, and the only way to do that is to 
change your identity. And that’s dead easy. 
Change your face, wear good clothes, live in a 
decent place, have a steady job with plenty of 
money, and forget your old pals, and your old 
haunts. Think what it will mean to you, man. 


THE BATTLE OF THE JAW BONE 257 

to walk the streets without ducking every time 
you see a cop. Think of it, Buggs.’’ 

Capwell was observing the effect of his words 
as he talked. A growing hope manifested itself 
in Buggs’s features for a moment, and then faded 
away. 

‘^You know I ain’t got no money to change 
my face,” he said despondently. ^‘I’ve heard of 
that guy. He don’t touch a case for less than 
a thousand dollars. And how do I know how I’m 
going to look when he gets through with me?” 

You won’t care how you look so that you donH 
look like that picture in the Rogues’ Gallery—in 
other words, so that you don’t look like Buggs. 
As for the money, you’re my partner. There is 
a big reward out for Gentleman Jim, and you’re 
going to get him. Alive, you understand.” 

Buggs struggled between the desire to shuffle 
off the wretched misery of his present life and 
his dismay at losing his familiar physiognomy. 

‘‘It’s just a choice between your being the un¬ 
der or upper dog in your next meeting with Gen¬ 
tleman Jim.” 

Capwell’s words supplied the necessary weight 
to tip the beam. 

“It’s a go,” said Buggs. 

“Good,” said Capwell, heartily. “Now, then, 
there ain’t going to be no failure this time. It’ll 
take a long, long time, but—” 


258 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


He surveyed Buggs again. ‘‘You’re sure you 
can find him?” he said. 

“Oh, hell! That don’t worry me none. Never 
has. Only trouble is he always gets the best of 
me when I do find him. When I get my hands 
on him this time, I’m going to croak him.*’ 

“Oh, no! Oh, no! That’s too easy,” remon¬ 
strated Capwell. “Any crook could do that. 
We’ll decide what we are going to do with him 
later. Where did you mean to look for him first ? ’ ’ 

“Toronto.” 

“Toronto! Did he really mean to go to To¬ 
ronto?” 

“Sure he did. What is there surprising in 
that?” 

“Oh, nothing,” said Capwell absently. 

“What—^what you thinking about, boss?” 

“I was thinking that it was damned unfortu¬ 
nate that he should be in Toronto while you have 
to stay in New York for your treatment,” said 
Capwell. 

“Oh, well, for that matter, you needn’t worry 
about that. ’Slong’s you’re in no hurry, you can 
wait for him here. He’s sure to turn up here 
again as soon as this Bowen business blows over,” 
said Buggs confidently. 

“How do you know that?” 

“Why, hell, I guess you couldn’t a been born 
in New York, boss, or you wouldn’t ask that ques¬ 
tion. If you’re born in New York you can’t help 


THE BATTLE OF THE JAW BONE 259 

coming back to it. Look at me! I can’t stay away 
from it when I know I’m going to be kicked from 
pillar to post by every goddam cop in the place. 
And he has the damnedest nerve. He ’ll walk into 
a restaurant some day and set down to the same 
table with you, and talk to you and you won’t 
know it. New York is his beat. I know him. 
And I’ll know when he comes. He knows he can’t 
set down in no restaurant with me and fool me. 
He’s more afraid of me than of any tec in the 
world. ’ ’ 

‘‘It’s a wonder he hasn’t killed you,” said Cap- 
well. 

“He ain’t a killer. Not to do the job himself. 
He’s an actor more’n anything else. He likes 
makin’ up and fooling people, but he has to get 
money, and so he gets it any way he can. He’d 
rather do some tomfoolery to get it, too, than to 
pick it up in the streets. But he’s a skunk for 
meanness when it comes to divvying up with a 
pal,” he added reminiscently. 

“Pal-ing with him hasn’t been very profitable 
for you, has it?” said Capwell. 

Buggs shook his head. 

“I was as honest a lad as ever lived, too, before 
I fell for him. And when once you get down you 
can never get back,” he added regretfully. 

“This is going to be the exception that proves 
the rule. Bu—, by the way, what is your name?” 
Capwell asked abruptly. 


260 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

Buggs, with quick suspicion, hesitated. 

‘Ht ain’t so bad a name, boss. My father is 
an honest man over in Brooklyn. I’m the only 
crook in the family. I’d ruther not tell it, if you 
don’t mind.” 

‘‘But you can’t be called Buggs any longer. 
Buggs is going to die suddenly in the first suitable 
catastrophe that occurs and stay plumb dead for¬ 
ever and ever. I’d begin my new life with my own 
name if I were you. You’ll have something worth 
living up to then. What name shall you call your¬ 
self when you visit Dr. Victoire ? ’ ’ 

The outcast rose and straightened himself to 
his full height. 

“Robert Dill,” he said confidently. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS 

K INGDON HARROW, younger son of Ar¬ 
thur Witherell Harrow, Lord Hermiston, 
Sussex, England, hung up his hat and over¬ 
coat in the anteroom of his superb apartment in 
the Benedict, the most exclusive bachelor resi¬ 
dence in New York. Then he punched a switch 
button, thereby softly illuminating the handsome 
bachelor’s living room into which he entered. 
There was evidence of taste in the Persian car¬ 
pet, the simple lines of old Chippendale, and in 
the few good copies of English prints adorning 
the walls. The Hresden shepherdesses on the 
mantel and a cabinet of curios containing quaint 
English silver with ancient hall-marks, betrayed 
a distinctly English taste. The books which filled 
a low bookcase against the wall bore the names 
of English authors, and on the table lay copies 
of the London Times and the Oxford Literary 
Review, 

In spite of these evidences of luxury and ease, 
Kingdon Harrow did not appear altogether happy. 
He passed his hand over a slightly frowning 

brow, and thrust agitated fingers through his 

261 


262 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

exceedingly blond hair. His blue eyes held an 
almost apprehensive expression. As if to shake 
off an unpleasantly obtruding thought he shrugged 
his shoulders a trifle impatiently and threw him¬ 
self into a chair near the table. Some letters 
had been left in his absence, small, square en¬ 
velopes indicating invitations—nothing of impor¬ 
tance. He toyed absently with the paper cutter 
the while his thoughts seemed to be engaged else¬ 
where. Presently, with a gesture of annoyance, 
he thrust his hand into an inside pocket and drew 
forth a thin, fragrant Morocco leather case. His 
slender white fingers sought and found what he 
was looking for. It was a newspaper clipping, 
not a recent one apparently, and the information 
it gave could certainly bear no relation to this 
favored son of ancient family. 

The clipping ran: 

Disastrous Fire in Lodging House. 

A fire of unknown origin broke out at two 
o^clock this morning in the cheap lodging-house 
known as the Owl. It was frequented by derelicts, 
more especially by men of low intelligence, used 
as the tools of more brainy criminals. 

The fire swept through the open dormitory, and 
before the panic-stricken sleepers could file down 
the narrow stairway, those in the rear were 
caught in the flames. Several of the victims were 
recognized by the police. Among them Jack the 
Rogue, once a well-known character to the police; 
Frank Crispini, the gunman, implicated in the 


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS 263 

Joyce case, and Buggs, an ex-jail-bird, who dis¬ 
appeared from New York during the war, but re¬ 
cently appeared to swell the r,anks of the under¬ 
world. 

The slender fingers held the paper for some 
time; then they seized a match, and, holding the 
clipping over an ash-tray, applied the fiame, and 
the blue eyes above the fingers watched it turn 
to ashes. 

Then Kingdon Darrow rose impatiently and 
shook himself vigorously. He walked over to a 
mirror and surveyed himself. What he saw was 
a young, good-looking man dressed in evening 
clothes which became him well. His very blond 
hair and blue eyes were almost a Swedish type, 
but when he placed a monocle in his eye he was 
distinctly British. 

‘ ‘ Idiot! ” he said, addressing himself. ‘ ‘ What’s 
the matter with you? Why should a stupid, ig¬ 
norant priest get on your nerves? He didnT look 
like Buggs. He didnT act like Buggs. And, yet, 
I had the same creepy sensation that Buggs, and 
no other man in the world, aroused in me.’’ 

He paced the floor, ruminating. 

‘H’ve thought he was dead before, but he has 
apparently as many lives as a cat. However, if 
the police recognized him, he must be dead this 
time for sure. Besides, he has never lost my trail 
for fourteen months before. Yes, he’s dead, all 
right, and I’m a fool.” 


264 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


Relieved, he walked over to the table and picked 
up a package of cigarettes. In reaching for 
matches, his hand upset a photograph in a silver 
frame. Laughingly he took it up and held it in 
both hands before him. 

‘‘Charming Sylvia, I apologize,’’ he laughed. 

The frame contained the photograph of a 
woman about twenty-five, handsome in a way, the 
mouth a trifle voluptuous, the eyes sophisticated 
if not bold. She was dressed in a low-cut gown, 
with too many jewels for the strictest good 
taste. 

“Sweet Sylvia,” he repeated. “I wonder what 
Eleanor would think of you. You’d think her 
rather tame, of course. But you can put it all 
over her. You certainly are a bewitching widow. 
I wonder how many packages of Wright’s Pepsin 
Gum went to the purchase of that necklace. If 
I were a statistician or a mathematician now I 
might figure ou the amount of energy consumed 
by all the jaws that worked for that charming 
adornment for you and more especially for Me— 
for in one week—one little week, Charming Sylvia 
—you and your bank-roll will be mine. I hope 
you won’t ask me about my past. But, as for 
that, women never do worry about a man’s past 
except in regard to other women, and I haven’t 
been a sinner in that respect. I never robbed a 
woman of her honor.” 

He placed the photograph on the table and 


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS 265 


lighted his cigarette. Then, as it was nearing one 
o’clock, he prepared for bed. 

All of which goes to show that the erstwhile 
Charles Bowen, as Buggs had predicted, had re¬ 
turned to New York, and, assured of no further 
blackmailing visits from Buggs, had been living 
there in a new role, in fancied security for many 
months. 

The immediate cause of his sharp reminder of 
Buggs was that on this evening, as he picked up 
his change in a subway booth, an arm brushed his 
sleeve and a hand containing a nickel was thrust 
through the ticket window. He moved away, at 
the same time glancing at the stranger. He gave 
an involuntary start and the blood left his face, 
for, at first, he thought he was gazing into the 
face of Buggs. But it was, instead, a harmless 
priest whose eyes met his in unrecognizing apol¬ 
ogy. 

He shook off the feeling and proceeded to call 
on Sylvia. Sylvia was moved to go to a benefit 
concert for the Children’s Village, which was to 
be patronized by society leaders of a philanthropi- 
cal turn of mind, and to which Sylvia had con¬ 
tributed a generous check. Accordingly they went 
to the concert, and directly beneath their box, in 
direct range of their eyes, sat the priest, his ton- 
sure visible as he bent over his program. 

Again he had that unaccountable unpleasant 
sensation which only Buggs had power to stir in 


266 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

liim. Furtively he studied the priest’s face 
through Sylvia’s opera glass. No, it couldn’t be 
Buggs. The pugnacious lower lip was lacking. 
Lacking, too, the furtive sidelong glances between 
lowered lids. Furthermore, by no stretch of the 
imagination could he visualize Buggs sitting at 
ease in an audience of respectable law-abiding 
people. He dismissed the thought. 

But now, arrayed in silken pajamas and lying 
on the bed, he could not prevent the thought re¬ 
turning. Sleep refused to visit him, while over 
and over again with that devilish persistency 
peculiar to unwelcome thoughts at night, past epi¬ 
sodes involving Buggs recurred to him. 

There was that moment when Buggs discov¬ 
ered him posing as Charles Bowen, the harassing 
days that followed, the peculiar characteristic of 
the fellow that while you counted him least among 
the creatures that crawled the earth, and assured 
yourself that by no possibility could he become an 
active factor in your affairs after you had used 
him and cast him off, he had power in his very 
nihility to move you as no other creature could. 
He always managed to queer everything. There 
was the matter of the ten thousand dollars he 
had drawn for him on Jasper Bowen’s forged 
signature—the bribe which Buggs had demanded 
as the price of his leaving the country—and which 
he, himself, had so clumsily lost in his rapid 
change of clothes that night at Globe Hollow. 



COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS 267 

He supposed that he had given the poor devil 
the raw deal. He wondered if he had underesti¬ 
mated him. Such persistency as he had might, 
perhaps, have been used to better purpose, but 
he was so confoundedly docile, so ‘‘sticky^’ when 
you had no use for him that you loathed him and 
just had to kick him. But he was dead now, and 
no harm done. Just like him to be last in the fire 
line in that filthy lodging-house and get caught. 
Why didn’t he jump on their necks and trample 
the dirty gang under his feet and get out! Well, 
he was glad he didn’t. Glad he was dead. He 
would think no more about him. He turned his 
pillow and composed himself for sleep; but his 
consciousness refused to part with Buggs. Over 
and over again the episodes repeated themselves; 
and he was obliged to turn his pillow many times 
before he found oblivion. 


CHAPTER XXX 


AN IMPATIENT BEIDEGROOM 

HE morning found him unrefreshed. He 
showered, shaved, and dressed. His sump¬ 
tuously served breakfast restored him in a 
degree. He convinced himself that the premoni¬ 
tion which he was unable to shake off was due 
to his forthcoming interview with Sylvia. For he 
had to get money from Sylvia for their wedding 
expenses, and that process involved some lying. 
Not that lying troubled his conscience. Lying was 
the easiest thing he could do. But if Sylvia, with 
thrifty foresight, should decide to postpone the 
wedding until his delayed (!) funds should arrive 
and should refuse to be swayed by his passionate 
assurances that he could not, would not wait an¬ 
other day for the happiness she had promised 
him, it was going to put him to some inconven¬ 
ience to threaten suicide and perform all the dra¬ 
matics he had at his command. He was frowning 
a bit at the prospect of all this boredom when he 
bought his ticket in the subway. He turned with 
the ticket in his hand, and started back with a 
suppressed oath as he again encountered the 

priest. The priest was carefully selecting a nickel 

268 



AN IMPATIENT BRIDEGROOM 269 


from the coins in his hand, but looked up with 
mild surprise for a moment, and again turned his 
attention to the absorbing occupation of sorting 
out the required nickel. 

The usual crowd of frantic ticket-seekers imme¬ 
diately separated them, but Kingdon Darrow 
turned his head apprehensively over his shoulder 
before he boarded the uptown express. He bit 
his lip with vexation at the perturbation this 
stupid old priest was causing him. To divert his 
mind he picked up a morning paper some mes¬ 
senger had left in his seat, and the first thing his 
eye encountered was a headline: 

‘‘The Jasper Bowen Residence Sold.’’ 

With a crooked smile he read the paragraph. 
Mrs. Wayne Merriman, it seemed, was realizing 
a fortune on the sale. The article went on to 
revive the tale of the old man’s tragic death at 
Globe Hollow. He cast the paper from him with¬ 
out reading that part. He had no wish to recall 
that ghastly experience which only the direst ex¬ 
tremity had forced him into. And it had failed 
after all. It was an acrid memory. An inaus¬ 
picious day, he thought, what with this recall of 
his most prodigious failure following the bad 
dreams of the night, and the haunting presence 
of this miserable priest. Was this encounter with 
him at the moment he was setting out on a preda- 


' 270 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


tory expedition an omen of failure? Like all gam¬ 
blers be had a strong vein of superstition in his 
nature. 

He found Sylvia alone and unusually sweet and 
gracious. 

‘‘Sylvia, dear,^’ he said, “I have just learned 
some very disturbing news. The old solicitor who 
has done business for my father for'a generation 
has most inconveniently died.’’ 

“Now, don’t tell me you are going to put on 
mourning for him and postpone our wedding. Is 
that the custom in England?” she inquired anx¬ 
iously. 

“No, indeed, but it is very unfortunate that this 
should occur with our wedding only a week off,” 
he said. 

“Only six days,” she corrected him; “but why 
introduce a death at our wedding feast?” 

“Because—^well, the truth is, Sylvia, he died be¬ 
fore he advanced my allowance, and you must ad¬ 
mit that’s an awkward situation for a bride¬ 
groom,” he laughed with an embarrassed air. 

“Oh, Kingdon, what are we going to do? The 
invitations are out; and the house is leased and 
the servants discharged. I can’t stay here. We 
must be married on the day set.” 

As she enumerated the reasons on her side for 
not postponing the wedding the gravity of the 
situation grew upon her. 



AN IMPATIENT BEIDEGROOM 271 

‘‘But your funds may come yet, donT you think 
so?’^ she inquired anxiously. 

“No hope of it,” he declared dejectedly. “You 
don’t know the English customs. Of course it 
will come some time, and plenty of it. My father 
is very generous with me, hut it is absolutely 
useless to hope for it immediately. I can’t tell 
you how humiliated I am over this situation, Syl¬ 
via.” 

She was touched by his distress and hastened to 
say: 

“I’ll have to telegraph father, that is all,” she 
declared. 

“If you love me you won’t telegraph your 
father,” he hurriedly expostulated. 

“Well, what shall we do? We’ve just got to 
do something,” she maintained. “Would you ac¬ 
cept a loan from me!” she inquired, doubtfully, 
as he made no reply but sat with his elbows rest¬ 
ing on his knees, his chin in his hand, gazing de¬ 
jectedly at the rug at his feet. 

“How could you ask me such a thing, dear! 
You know it is impossible,” he murmured. “And 
especially since you would have to take your 
father into your confidence,” he added. “I 
couldn’t stand that humiliation.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t have to ask father for it. I 
have plenty available. I only said that because 
I thought it would embarrass you less to take it 


272 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


from a man than from a woman,she hastened 
to assure him. 

‘‘Not if you love the woman, dear,’’ he said, 
looking up at her significantly. 

“Well, then, that is settled,” she said in re¬ 
lieved tones. “I can get all we want at once. 
How much would you need, KingdonT’ 

“Fifty thousand is my quarterly allowance, and 
I had counted on having that much to use on our 
trip. I haven’t bought our tickets yet. San Fran¬ 
cisco,. Japan, China, India—that’s our route, 
isn’t it? You haven’t forgotten?” he said ten¬ 
derly. 

She laughed happily. 

“Forgotten! Isn’t that just like a man! They 
always forget anniversaries and things and they 
think we women forget our honeymoon plans.” 

“Well, if I am going to become a debtor to my 
wife, the sooner I make the fatal plunge, the bet¬ 
ter,” he said gayly. “How soon could you get 
the money, Sylvia?” 

“To-day, I think. I’m sure of it because my 
broker has just sold some securities. I told him 
I should need a little pocket money myself,” she 
replied. 

“That’s fine,” he said. “Now don’t, for 
heaven’s sake, tell your broker you are going to 
lend it to me. There’s no need of emphasizing my 
embarrassing predicament.” 

“Of course not,” she protested. 


AN IMPATIENT BRIDEGROOM 273 


‘^Well, then, I’ll come around for it this eve¬ 
ning. You’ll he sure to have it, won’t you? We 
have delayed too long already about the tickets.” 
He couldn’t keep the note of anxiety out of his 
voice. 

‘‘I’ll surely have it,” she promised him, laugh¬ 
ing, “ if I have to rob an orphan to get it. ’ ’ 

He left her shortly afterward, highly gratified 
with the success of his mission. He had named 
fifty thousand dollars only to impress her with 
his scale of living. He had faintly hoped to get 
ten thousand. 

He was swinging himself breezily around the 
corner, congratulating himself on his good luck, 
when he nearly bumped into the now familiar 
figure of the priest, who was inoffensively en¬ 
gaged in putting a letter into the letter box. 

His heart missed a beat. 

‘ ‘ Damn the fellow, ’ ’ he muttered. “ I’ve a good 
mind to kick him. ’ ’ 

The priest was apparently oblivious of him. He 
didn’t even glance his way. The circumstance 
of meeting him again, however, became the nucleus 
of suspicion. Kingdon Harrow was too familiar 
with detectives and their ways not to know that 
one could see a man perfectly without looking at 
him. He became increasingly uneasy, and he hur¬ 
ried along the street unaware that his face had 
become white and drawn. 

• Once inside his own door, he locked and bolted 


I 


274 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


it. His nebulous suspicions rapidly solidified; 
and he was certain now that the hour was ap¬ 
proaching when he would be again matching his 
wits against the police. He cursed himself for 
slackening up in his usual precautions. He had 
been unmolested for so long that he had become 
negligent. Buggs was dead. He had discounted 
Capwell because of his long inactivity in his case. 
Could any more harrowing climax be devised by 
a vicious fate than to be obliged to fly on the very 
eve of the greatest coup in his career? Sylvia 
with her ten millions ready, too ready, to drop 
into his arms. The pursuit had been so dead easy 
it had made him soft. All he had to do was to 
be passive and let Sylvia pursue him. She would 
have some chase, he sneeringly reflected, after the 
knot was tied. 

Well, he must brace up. He would get the fifty 
thousand dollars to-night and beat it, and leave 
sweet Sylvia to console herself as best she could. 
If the detectives were really on his trail they knew 
he would not decamp before the date set for his 
wedding. He knew the beastly tribe. They would 
think it dramatic to take him ‘‘on the eve of his 
wedding to the wealthy widow.” Well, he’d fool 
them. To-morrow morning the priest would be 
wasting his nickels and his time in the subway. 
Sylvia would be vainly telephoning, and the 
swarm of detectives whom he believed now were 
surrounding him would be licking their chops in 


AN IMPATIENT BRIDEGEOOM 275 

anticipation of something that wasnT going to 
happen. 

He would make sure of that fifty thousand; fool 
that he was for not doing it before, but he hadn’t 
thought Sylvia such an easy mark. He chafed at 
the time intervening between him and that blessed 
roll. He hoped it was old Capwell setting the 
stage for his capture, but he didn’t believe Cap- 
well would ever cross swords with him again. 
Poor old Capwell, he would naturally become a 
back number after the fiasco he made of his last 
attempt. How they must have guyed him at head¬ 
quarters. He hadn’t seen his name mentioned 
since. Well, whoever it was, he must be making 
tracks. 

His mental machinery never worked better than 
when stimulated by the knowledge that he was 
pursued. His zest for the game was as keen as 
that of a lad at football. He had an inborn affinity 
with deception in any form. He loved a circus 
clown, a prestidigitator, a hypnotist, a ventrilo¬ 
quist, or a fake medium, all of whose artifices he 
had learned in his day. Anything that fooled a 
gullible public made an abnormal appeal to him. 

Had it not been for an irresistible urge towards 
a criminal career, the stage would have been a 
good medium for his peculiar gifts. That field, 
however, was too circumscribed for him. He 
needs must have the whole world for his stage 
and on that he had played many parts. 


276 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

He had become famous, elusive, mysterious. 
Many times the police had gathered sufficient evi¬ 
dence against him to place him behind steel bars, 
but they were always a fraction of a second too 
late. At the very moment that they had his iden¬ 
tity established, the man they sought was non¬ 
existent. And it had been such fun—mostly. 

He had never had trusted accomplices. That 
was too dangerous. When he could not handle a 
job alone, he had found one or more tools for the 
occasion only. He had never held them into his 
next incarnation. 

Only that infernal leech, Buggs. Him he could 
never elude. Buggs had known him in their boy¬ 
hood days when they attended the same public 
school in Brooklyn; and by some devilish instinct 
supposed to be possessed only by dogs, Buggs had 
invariably sniffed him out and hounded him 
through all his career. He had used him, had 
sent him on expeditions purposely designed to 
end his miserable life, only to find him later res¬ 
urrected, sitting on his haunches as it were, pene¬ 
trating with his dog-like gaze his most impervious 
incognito. Sometimes he had thrown him a pro¬ 
pitiatory bone, as was his intention in the Bowen 
case. He had drawn the ten thousand dollars for 
Buggs, and he believed that would quiet him for 
some time. When the Bowen millions were actu¬ 
ally in his possession, the tables would be turned 
and he would have had the power to denounce him 


AN IMPATIENT BRIDEGKOOM 277 

as a dangerous lunatic if he had ever appeared 
again. 

But he was dead now. That was a comfort. 
He would never have had to serve that term at 
Atlanta had it not been for Buggs. The hound had 
always appeared just before a catastrophe. It 
had become a natural sequence of events—Buggs 
—suspicion—disclosure—disaster. 

And now that he was dead that same sequence 
was imminent. Though he had not appeared in 
the flesh, his dog-gone ghost was sitting outside 
on its haunches, staring, staring with unwinking 
eyes. The thought frenzied him. With blazing 
eyes he looked about for an object upon which 
to vent his wrath. His eye fell upon an inoffen¬ 
sive footstool. He drew back his polished boot 
and kicked the stool with such force that it rose 
in the air, resented the blow with a counter attack 
on the gilded mirror, which crashed and fell into 
a thousand glistening pieces on the floor. 

He fell back aghast. Another omen of ill luck. 
The blood was pounding in his veins. He sank 
into the deep embrace of an easy chair, and at¬ 
tempted to pull himself together. He had never 
been this way before. The zest of the comedy of 
impersonation and the baffling of his pursuers had 
heretofore more than compensated him for his 
perilous position. He had been in tighter places 
than this before, and never turned a hair. 

And, by God! he wouldnT, now. He turned 



278 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

his back on the shattered mirror, however, as he 
rose, and entered his bedroom. From a closet he 
dragged forth a huge trunk which he unlocked, 
disclosing carefully folded costumes. One by one, 
he removed trays and examined costume after 
costume. 

He removed his coat, and with it the thick pad¬ 
ding which had given him the appearance of thick¬ 
shouldered stockiness. In his shirt he was lean 
and agile. His body was supple as a willow wand. 
He stretched his arm and watched with a satisfied 
smile the muscles of his wrist expand. Not even 
Lupin had anything on him in the way of expand¬ 
ing those muscles to accommodate themselves to 
handcuffs—nor of contracting them when con¬ 
venient to throwing them off. 

He turned again to the costumes, and his self- 
confidence began to return with the memories of 
the safety they had always brought. Here was 
an ice-man’s outfit—the one in which he had 
escaped on an ice-wagon through a cordon of po¬ 
licemen, while the real ice-man lay bound and 
gagged inside the house. That disguise might 
come in handy again. Although he had always 
made it a point not to use the same disguise a 
second time. Aside from his vain love of playing 
many roles, he did not think it expedient to use 
a disguise which he had made conspicuous. 

Usually his decision was made instantly. But 
there was the money which he must have and he 


AN IMPATIENT BRIDEGROOM 279 


must go to Sylvia as Kingdon Darrow. His re¬ 
solve to beat it the instant the money was in his 
hands was definite. How he could enter Sylvia ^s 
house as Kingdon Darrow, and leave as another 
person was what he was pondering over. Sylvia 
was such a simpleton, she would swallow any tale 
he told her. All he had to do was to decide upon 
his disguise, take it along with him, and trust 
to his nimbleness of brain at the moment, and his 
ability to make lightning changes. 

He began to whistle; then he hummed a favor¬ 
ite song: 

‘‘Jog on! jog on the foot-path way, 

And merrily hent the stile-a; 

A merry heart goes all the way, 

Your sad tires in a mile-aJ’ 


CHAPTER XXXI 

WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR 1 

B ut the whistle and the words of the song 
were insufficient to dispel his sense of im¬ 
pending danger. The ardent pursuit of 
Sylvia’s dollars, together with his long immunity 
from the police, had contributed to a slight, al¬ 
most unconscious, letting down of his guard. 

He cursed himself roundly for his carelessness. 
He cursed Sylvia for dallying about the wedding. 
If she had been willing to be married quietly 
without fuss and feathers as he had tried to per¬ 
suade her would be a romantic thing to do, he 
would be safely aboard a Pacific steamer by this 
time bound for pastures new, where he wouldn’t 
grow crook-necked looking over his shoulder for 
a damned dick. He was getting tired of this life. 
He was entitled to a vacation and time to spend 
ten million dollars leisurely. 

But—the situation being what it was, he must 
bestir himself and devise a way out. He was con¬ 
vinced now that they were on his trail; and that, 
undoubtedly, there were plain clothes men hang¬ 
ing around the Benedict this very moment. Hang 

it all, he would put it to the test! Leaving the 

280 


WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 281 

disguises, the separate parts of each one care¬ 
fully placed together with no necessary detail mis¬ 
placed or lacking, he left his bedroom, passed 
through the sitting-room out into the corridor, 
snatching his hat from a rack in the anteroom 
on his way. 

He spoke good-naturedly to the elevator boy, 
and stepped out on the mosaic marble floor of the 
lobby with a sprightly and carefree air. Several 
well-dressed men, who might be residents of the 
Benedict, were standing around smoking and 
might be waiting for automobiles. Yes, there 
were a suspicious number of men there for this 
time of day. No doubt about that. 

He asked a few questions of a uniformed at¬ 
tendant, leisurely lighted a cigarette, and strolled 
into the street. Two of the idlers chose that some 
moment to follow his example. Singularly, too, 
they went in his direction. Satisfied that they 
were detectives, he made a purchase at the corner 
drug store, and returned to the Benedict. 

At sight of the man he had already carried 
up and down several times that morning, the ele¬ 
vator boy’s face took on the expression signifying 
‘‘Can you beat it?” but he resignedly took his 
place in the corner and released the spring. 

As the elevator shot upward, bearing with it the 
golden hair crowning the handsome, pale face 
crisscrossed by the steel bars, a quiet, keen-look¬ 
ing man with gray hair dropped the newspaper 


282 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 

whicli had concealed his face, and looked over the 
top of his spectacles. Another man in an over¬ 
coat and hat whose impatient remarks about the 
tardiness of his automobile had abruptly ceased 
with the disappearance of the elevator, caught the 
look. 

Jerking his head briefly in the direction of the 
elevator shaft, the man behind the newspaper 
addressed the other laconically: 

‘‘Steel bars rather becoming to him, eh, what?” 

“You got that, too, did you?” said the other 
with quick comprehension. 

Kingdon Harrow returned to his room per¬ 
fectly aware that he was under surveillance, but 
aware, too, that for some reason the arrest would 
not be made immediately. He attributed the delay 
to the lack of sufficient proof of his identity. 

Since the detectives did not arrest him when he 
was absolutely in their hands, he counted on im¬ 
munity for the rest of the day, anyway; possibly 
longer. As his coming marriage to Sylvia was no 
secret, they would naturally not expect him to 
decamp before that took place. 

Well, it was a desperate chance, but he must get 
that fifty thousand and beat it this very night. 
He would go to Sylvia’s as Kingdon Harrow, and 
emerge another person. Who should he be? 
He might have Sylvia send for a messenger or 
even for a policeman—that would be a good idea 
—send for a policeman, slug him and get his uni- 


WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 283 

form—or call in the tire department. Why, there 
were a dozen ways, he exnltingly assured himself, 
especially with Sylvia so deucedly unsuspect¬ 
ing. 

It was with a fair degree of confidence, then, 
that he changed to evening clothes and leisurely, 
though cautiously, made his way to Sylvia ^s. He 
stopped at the florist’s and purchased a bunch of 
roses, which he took with him. 

He reached her door without detention, and 
patted his pocket confidently while waiting for his 
ring to be answered. Sylvia, herself, her face 
glowing with pleasure, opened the door. 

He thrust the box of roses into her hand and 
hung his hat on the rack. 

‘‘Did you get the money, Sylvia?” he inquired 
eagerly, following her into the drawing-room. 

“Is that all you care for me?” she rallied. 
“Before you have even kissed me or noticed the 
gown I am wearing for your benefit, you ask about 
the money. Don’t you adore me in this gown, 
Kingdon?” 

“I adore you in anything, and too well you 
know it,” he replied gallantly. “It is only be¬ 
cause I am afraid of losing you that I asked about 
the money.” 

“That’s more like it!” she exclaimed. “Now, 
let’s see what’s in the box. Oh, Gloire de Dijons! 
What exquisite taste you have, Kingdon. Thank 
you so much.” 


284 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


She took the fragrant roses from their tissue 
paper, and rang for a servant to bring vases, while 
he nervously lighted a cigarette and waited in 
tense impatience. 

Since fifty thousand dollars had seemed to her 
a reasonable amount to ask for, he had quickly 
accustomed himself to think that he could not very 
well do with less. 

He forced himself to restrain his impatience 
while she was busy with the roses, exclaiming over 
their beauty and fragrance. 

A servant entered the room. 

^‘Dennis,’’ said Sylvia, ‘‘please bring me one 
of the crystal bowls with water in it for these 
darling roses. 

“Yes, miss,’’ said Dennis, and backed out. 

“Who the deuce is that!” demanded Kingdon 
Harrow, uneasily. 

“That! Oh, you mean the new butler!” she 
murmured absently. “His name is Dennis.” 

“Yes, I heard you call him Dennis, but where 
did you get him!” he demanded in an irritated 
tone. 

“Why, Kingdon, I believe you’re cross,” she 
said, looking up at him. 

“Well, who wouldn’t be cross!” he muttered. 
“That’s the second question I’ve asked you in 
the last five minutes that you haven’t conde¬ 
scended to answer.” 

“Oh, forgive me, dear; Dennis is nothing to 


WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 


285 


quarrel over. He is an old servant of Jasper 
Bowen, you know that old man that was found 
burned to death— 

^ ‘ Good God, Sylvia! What do you want to talk 
about such horrible things for? Do you call that 
answering my question? I want to know how you 
happen to have him.’’ 

‘‘Well, I havenH got him, if that is what you 
want to know. Father has him. This house be¬ 
longs to the Jasper Bowen estate and father has 
leased it. And Dennis and Ann are proteges of 
Mrs. Colonel Merriman—a granddaughter or 
something of old Jasper Bowen. You should see 
Ann, Kingdon.” 

“What in the world do I want to see Ann for?” 
he exclaimed testily. “Sylvia, dear, I don’t think 
you realize how very unhappy it makes me—this 
being out of funds just when I need them most. 
Why can’t you relieve my mind at once ? Forgive 
me if I seem insistent.” 

“To tell the truth, Kingdon, I’m as nervous 
as a witch about it myself.” She looked around 
as if to make sure they were alone and lowered 
her voice. 

“I have the money, but I shall be relieved to 
get rid of it, I assure you.” She reached into her 
bosom and drew forth a key which she fitted to 
an inlaid desk near by. Then with another key 
she unlocked an inner drawer and drew forth a 
sheaf of bills. 


286 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘There it is,’^ she said with a sigh of relief. 
“Fifty thousand dollars.’’ 

He took it eagerly and placed it hastily in an 
inside pocket. 

“Thank you, dear,” he said. “You shall have 
it back with interest many times compounded 
when my ship comes in.” 

“I have had the queerest feeling about it. King- 
don. I have been absolutely upset,” she said, 
glancing apprehensively at the windows. 

“What do you mean by that?” he asked quickly. 
“Has anything happened?” 

“Nothing has really happened,” she explained, 
“but while I was in the bank I seemed to be 
shadowed by a queer-looking priest. I went into 
the ladies’ room, and drew the money from the 
window there, and you know how that window is 
in the Columbia Bank—at a right angle to one of 
the teller’s windows outside. Any one standing 
at that window can see any transaction that takes 
place. When the money was being counted out, 
I looked up and a priest seemed to be boring 
his eyes into me. I have seen him around here 
before, I am sure. I believe he’s a burglar.” 

She failed to notice the start he gave, and went 
on: 

“There have been strange people hanging about 
here this afternoon, suspicious-looking men—two 
of them across the street; and Dennis reported a 


WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 287 

man to the police for being in. the court at the 
back of the house.’’ 

‘‘What did the officer do?” demanded Kingdon 
Darrow apprehensively. 

“Why, he chased him out, and I asked him if 
he wouldn’t telephone to headquarters for a spe¬ 
cial guard for this house to-night.” 

“And he did so?” Kingdon Darrow gasped. 

“Yes, indeed, he did. Two plain clothes men 
came and questioned me; and I told them not to 
let anybody come or go from here to-night except 
you, and to keep a special guard over you. It 
isn’t so much the loss of the money—but what 
if they should—kill you—to get it?” 

She turned white at the thought, but not whiter 
than he did. She had surrounded him with the 
police, and made it impossible for him to evade 
them. They had orders to arrest anybody except 
him; therefore no disguise would avail. They 
wouldn’t take him in the house; but they would 
capture him as soon as he left it. There was no 
doubt in his mind about that. The place was 
swarming with them, he knew. 

The only possible exit for him was the roof. 
He could climb like a cat, and spring across 
chasms where he was sure no man could follow 
him; and if they shot him—well, better that than 
what awaited him if captured. 

“Sylvia, dear,” he said, calmly, “you’re all up- 


288 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


set and nervous, and I^m going to leave you. Idl 
go directly to my rooms, and telephone you the 
moment I get there that I am safe. ’ ’ 

wish you would, Kingdon,’^ she said. “I 
shall not rest until I know you’re safe.” 

‘‘Neither shall I rest until I know you are free 
from worry. I’ll wait here until you go up to 
your room. Say good night now, dear, and let 
me see you waving a farewell to me from the top 
of the stairs.” 

She needed no urging. She threw him a kiss 
from the top of the stairs, and he heard her door 
close and the bolt of the lock as it shot into place. 

Then he cautiously ascended the stairs and 
passed up the second flight. At the top of the 
latter, he ran squarely into Dennis. In an instant 
his revolver was leveled at Dennis’s eyes. 

‘ ‘ Go ahead of me to the roof, ’ ’ he ordered. ‘ ‘ At 
the first sound you make you’re a dead man.” 

“Better not go to the roof, Mr. Charles,” said 
Dennis calmly. “There’s two of ’em up there sit¬ 
ting on the trap door playing with guns.” 

“Then go down ahead of me.” The words left 
his lips with the speed of thought and Dennis 
was passing down with the agility of a monkey 
before he had time to consider, Kingdon Darrow 
close on his heels. 

“Now open the door,” came the sharp staccato 
command, “and pass out ahead of me.” 


WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 289 

With the muzzle of the revolver pressed against 
his back, Dennis obeyed in silence. 

Over the threshold he stopped at the command 
of ‘‘Halt!” 

“Now, gentlemen,” announced Harrow to ap¬ 
parently empty space, ‘ ‘ at the first attempt to lay 
hands on me, I shall kill this man.” 

The words had scarcely left his lips when a shot 
rang out and the hand that held his revolver 
dropped limply. 

Scarcely, however, had the gun which dropped 
from his hand reached the granite step when 
Kingdon Darrow had dropped to a crouching at¬ 
titude and leaped suddenly forward, and without 
a second’s pause made another similar forward 
motion, avoiding the bullets that sped after him. 
Then with magnificent speed he loped along, ani- 
mal-like, crouching low down and zigzagging with 
each bound. The luminous haze half veiling the 
street was rent by the flashing of many pistols, 
the reports overlapping each other; and still he 
ran on. 

Then the sudden din was succeeded by an 
equally sudden silence, for Kingdon Darrow, the 
unconquerable “Nimble Dodger” lay sprawling 
in the gutter in his immaculate evening clothes; 
and the smoke of many pistols was wafted away 
on an indifferent evening breeze. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


A LONG WAIT 

T he day following the arrest‘Cap well, hands 
clasped behind his head, swivel chair tilted 
back upon protesting springs, was leisurely 
watching through redolent wreaths of smoke an 
unaccustomed ray of sunlight which had surrepti¬ 
tiously stolen in and was dancing and flickering 
in fantastic shapes on the blank office wall, when 
a visitor was announced. 

This proved to be a stranger by sight, but not 
by name, as Capwell found when he had intro¬ 
duced himself as Dougal Stewart of the Canadian 
plain clothes, detective force. 

say, Mr. Capwell,’’ he began before the in¬ 
troduction was quite completed; ‘‘I wanted that 
bird myself.” 

‘^What bird?” inquired Capwell, his twinkling 
eyes denying the innocence his words implied. 

‘^Why, that bird you arrested yesterday with 
as many names as the Prince of Wales,” replied 
the Canadian, unbuttoning his overcoat. 

‘‘Take him and welcome,” said Capwell, calling 
his visitor’s attention to a peg for his overcoat 

290 


A LONG WAIT 291 

and hospitably pushing the box of cigars toward 
him. ‘ ‘ He’s warbled his last song for me. ’ ’ 

‘‘Havanas, ehT’ said the visitor, regarding the 
weed in his hand. “Lucky dog. I’ll have to 
smoke ragweed now that I have lost this fellow. 
What are you going to do with him?” 

“Who? Me?” laughed Capwell. “You don’t 
think I’ve got that rattler mixed up with the loose 
change in my pocket, do you?” 

The Canadian flipped the flame from a match 
and tossed it away. 

“No,” he said between puffs, “but I wonder 
how long before Canada can get his hide.” 

“Well, his hide was shot pretty full of holes 
last night; but it will mend, they tell me. I’m 
glad we didn’t kill him. Now, if you ask me how 
long Canada will have to wait, I should conserva¬ 
tively estimate it until about the time hell freezes 
over,” said Capwell judicially, resuming his seat 
and cigar. 

“As bad as that?” laughed Stewart. 

“Every bit,” said Capwell decidedly, “and then 
some. What did you want him for, anyway?” 

“Well, he played practically the same game in 
Toronto he did here. Posed as an American mil¬ 
lionaire, was received in the best society; got en¬ 
gaged to a wealthy woman, and decamped with 
her jewels and a large sum of ‘borrowed’ money. 
That was the game he was playing with Jasper 
Bowen’s niece, wasn’t it?” 


292 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


‘‘Partly/’ acknowledged Capwell, “only the 
girl didn’t fall for it. He was playing in the 
guise of the returned nephew for the Bowen es¬ 
tate. The old man died without making a will, 
and the faker impersonated him, made a will be¬ 
queathing the whole estate to himself, took the 
body in a trunk to Globe Hollow and cremated it, 
making it appear an accident, turned the girl pen¬ 
niless into the street, and was just about to realize 
on his investment when—” Capwell’s face dark¬ 
ened at the memory of what happened then. 

“He got the laugh on you that time, didn’t 
he?” said the Canadian, smiling broadly. 

“Y-e-s,” Capwell frankly admitted, “I’ll 
allow it was on me then, but it has turned out to 
be a half a dozen on him now. I was after him 
then, specifically, for forging Jasper Bowen’s 
name to checks; for forging Charles Bowen’s 
name in their endorsements; and for forging the 
will; as well as for removing and cremating a 
body without a permit. But now—” he shrugged 
his shoulders significantly and threw out his 
hands, palms upward. 

“It was never quite clear in my mind,” said 
Stewart, “why you fellows didn’t get him that 
time.” 

“All my fault,” acknowledged Capwell. “I 
was as greedy as the crook himself. I wasn’t sat¬ 
isfied with well enough. I wanted to bring in a 
charge of murder. I wasn’t sure he didn’t per- 


A LONG WAIT 293 

suade the old man to make a will in his favor and 
then lure him to Globe Hollow and bump him off. ^ ’ 

‘‘And are you satisfied now that he didn't!^’ 
questioned his listener. 

“Yes. It didn^t take me long to clear up the 
mystery. I visited the house and interviewed old 
Jasper ^s man, and his testimony, together with 
the doctor’s statement, convinced me that Jasper 
Bowen was dead before the will was made; and 
that ‘Charles’ impersonated him and made the 
will, and then had to devise a way to dispose of 
the body. Otherwise the autopsy would disclose 
the approximate time of the old man’s death.” 

“So that clears up the Mystery of Globe Hol¬ 
low? He put the body in a trunk and accompanied 

himself?” 

“Yes, impersonating old Jasper on the way. 
That man will impersonate somebody at his own 
funeral. I wasn’t sure when I had him in the 
ambulance last night that he wouldn’t turn into 
the Angel Gabriel like those dissolving pictures 
you see in the movies. Lucifer will have to be 
on his guard,” he laughed whimsically, “when 
he knocks for admission at the gates of Hell, or 
he will convince him he belongs in the other 
place.” 

“He’s some faker, all right,” agreed the Cana¬ 
dian. “But what became of the Bowen girl?” 

‘ ‘ She’s in Coblenz just now, I believe, with her 
husband. Colonel Merriman, a fine fellow she met 


294 THE GLOBE HOLLOW MYSTERY 


on the other side. She inherited the whole estate 
■—several millions. She disposed of that old 
Spook-shop on Fifth Avenue for a couple of mil¬ 
lions. She never went into it again after ‘ Cousin 
Charles’ occupied it. I guess old Jasper was 
enough to queer it without any outside help.” 

‘‘But, miser as he was, he fell for ‘Charles 
Bowen,’ didn’t he?” 

“No, I don’t think he did unreservedly. The 
checks were all forged, and, of course, the forger 
saw to it that the canceled checks never fell into 
the old man’s hands. The rascal lived in clover 
while the girl hadn’t a cent. It came out after¬ 
ward that the girl was entitled to a comfortable 
bit of money from her mother’s estate which old 
Jasper administered and confiscated.” 

“Tough luck!” said the Canadian. “But as 
she is now on the road to living ‘happy ever after’ 
tell me how you got on the trail of Kingdon Har¬ 
row.” 

“Ah,” said Capwell, “that’s another story.” 



THE END 










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